A Beginning
by Holliday1081
Summary: COMPLETE! My take on the time between the mutiny and the movie, what Jack was up to, who he met, and how he changed one woman's life, forever. JA. Please RR!
1. Recognition

Disclaimer:  I only own the characters you don't recognize, sadly I don't own any of the characters from POTC.

A/N:  Italics mean flashbacks.  I'm having a bit of trouble with the italics, so in this part the whole last half is flashback, even if it alternates between italics and normal type.  Sorry if there's any confusion. 

Her mind drifted back to a day that was nearly a year ago but still etched in her memory as if it was yesterday.  She feared that she would never forget the day she and her brother sought refuge on a tiny island in the Caribbean.  The island was home to the prison _La Cerradura_, and the Spanish aristocrat that acted as its overseer.  She had been a passenger on the _Resolute_, ship of the line for His Majesty's Navy, her brother's ship.  A hurricane had blown in during the night and instead of gracefully sailing into Kingston, she and the crew were hurtled into the unforgiving seas.  She awoke on a beach surrounded by the boards and sails that once constituted one of England's finest fighting vessels.  To her horror, she found that she was also surrounded by the bodies of the iron men that used to operate that ship.  Fortune had momentarily smiled upon her, however, for she heard her brother's voice.  He was soaked through and had a nasty bruise on his left cheek, but he was alive and he was helping her to her feet.  Don Antonio Cornado was also on that beach.  He had offered the remnant of _Resolute's_ crew lodging until word of the wreck could reach Kingston.  Don Cornado had seemed, at first, so kind.  However, upon touring the prison that the Spaniard was so proud of, she had instantly changed her mind.  As they approached the prison yard, she saw a man with long dark hair chained to a stone column and covered with blood.

            That image instantly snapped her back to the present.  She knew this man.  This thought startled her, seeing as he was holding a cutlass to her neck.  She had never been threatened with a sword before.  She did not have the faintest idea how she was supposed to feel, but she certainly never thought she would recognize her assailant.  His clothes were different and his hair was tied back from his angular face with a red bandana, but his eyes . . .  She had known that she would never forget his kohl-rimmed eyes.  They were deep and dark, incredibly remote, and they were right in front of her.   

            "Listen, luv," he began in a harsh whisper, "I wouldn't advise runnin' or screamin,' savvy?"

            She considered his warning for a moment.  Her new estate was less than a hundred yards from the spot where they stood, but who would come to her rescue?  She had only arrived yesterday.  There was no butler, no stable hands, no able-bodied men at all, only her personal maid, Sarah.  She pictured Sarah gathering up the poker from the fireplace and parrying with a pirate.  That thought almost made her laugh out loud, in spite of herself.

            "Who would answer my call?" she answered the man impudently.

            His eyes narrowed.  "You would have me believe that your in this big ol' house all by your onesy?"

            "I'm sure I don't care what you believe," she said.  This man was threatening to kill her.  She knew that she should be compliant and beg him not to hurt her, but she could not.  If he had wanted to kill her, would he not have already done so?  She suspected that he wanted something and was not interested in hurting her.  Inwardly she cringed as she thought of the only thing a pirate could possibly want from a woman.  If, he was expecting the timid woman to faint so that he could have his way with her, or something to that effect, he had picked the wrong house.  "Now, do you intend to go on threatening me all evening, or will you tell me what exactly it is that you want?"

            The man regarded her suspiciously.  Clearly, she was not reacting the way he had anticipated.  She wondered how many times he had done this before.  How many young women had stood behind his cutlass and eventually given in to what he wanted.  She had not once considered that this man would really kill her, but she was not about to believe that his intentions were remotely pure.  Since leaving _La Cerradura,_ she had tried to find out everything she could about the man who now stood before her.  Fantastic tales of his exploits were not hard to come by.  He was widely regarded as a greedy madman, and quite the womanizer.  

The man was staring intently.  His dark eyes bored holes into her skull.  She felt like he could see straight through her, if he had so desired.  The beads in his hair clattered together as he cocked his head to one side.  "Money," he answered finally.

            "Money?"

            "Money."

            He was robbing her.  This, she felt, was a good sign.  Money, she had in abundance and giving him gold did not require any sort of defilement.  "Well, then if I have your word as a . . . a gentleman that you won't kill me, money you shall have, sir."

            He raised an eyebrow, "that's it?  No trouble about it?" he must have expected her to stamp her foot and indignantly refuse.  What sort of women was this man used to?

            "Men fight.  Women are more pragmatic.  I suspect that if I would have resisted then you would have killed me.  So, I shall give you what you ask.  Now, even if you turn out to be a rat and you go back on your word, I suppose I still should be no worse off."

            "Really thought this through, have you, luv?"

            "Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Sparrow, but I do not care for the part of a damsel in distress," she finally did it.  He may be the one holding the weapon, but she held the ace up her sleeve.  She knew his name.  The tables may not have turned, but the odds had evened somewhat.     

            His face was still devoid of expression.  "Captain Sparrow," he responded, almost reflexively, "it's Captain – "  His dark eyes met hers.  "How do you know my name?"  His voice wavered slightly, but his expression only hardened.

            "My brother is a post captain in the Royal Navy.  He's told me many stories about pirates," she lied. Well, she partly lied.  Her brother had told her of the exploits of many of the pirates in the area.  Usually he told her about the pirates that he had captured, brought to Kingston and were awaiting execution.  She felt Captain Sparrow could go without knowing that bit of information.  She also decided not to mention the fact that she had seen him in prison.  If he realized that she knew that he was an escaped convict, then he might assume that she would be only too eager to send him back from whence he came.  Then what would stop him from killing her?

            "Ah, and what has he told you about me, I wonder?" a sinister smile played about his face and revealed several golden teeth.  Why did he need money from her?  He could just sell off bits of his mouth and finance a trip all the way around the world.

            "My brother tells me that you are either the very best or the very worst pirate to ever sail.  He hasn't made up his mind yet, nor have I," she said defiantly.  

            Sparrow extended his arm ever so slightly so that she felt the pressure of his cutlass pressing against the skin on her neck.  "There are a great many men in my line of work that would take offense at that kind of remark, missy," he snarled.

            "And there are a great many women who would take offense when there is a sword at their throat," she replied, "I have already agreed to meet your demands.  I do not think it is too much to ask that you lower your blade."

            This could be her defining moment.  It also could be her last moment.  If she had pushed the pirate too far, then she was as good as dead, but for some reason she just could not believe that Sparrow would kill her.  The stories said that he had once sacked Nassau Port without firing a shot.  Why would he do that?  Surely it would have been easier to run through the streets, bold as brass, killing anything and anyone that got in his way.  If nothing else, that course of action was more characteristic of pirates.  Of course, there was always the possibility that the stories were not true, in which case she could be goading a violent criminal for absolutely no reason.   

            He appeared to consider her statement.  Seconds passed that seemed like hours.  Finally he nodded and re-sheathed his sword.  As he did so, the light reflected off of something dark and shiny on his shoulder.  His body stiffened for an instant.  It could only be blood.

            She squared her jaw, trying to hide the emotion that was welling up inside of her.  The very first time she had laid eyes on the infamous pirate captain, he had been covered in his own blood. 

_Don Antonio Cornado had been generous enough to extend his hospitality to the few survivors of the _Resolute's _shipwreck.  The man had seemed pleasant enough, for a Spaniard, and he had provided shelter from the storm.  He was a middle aged aristocrat who had left Spain years ago to explore the West Indies.  Like her own father, he had fallen in love with one of the natives, and never returned to Europe.  Instead, he served his King and country by running _La Cerradura, _the prison from which,  Spain claimed, no one had ever escaped.  She was drawn in by the commandant's sad tale, his wife had died of the fever three years ago.  Cornado had smiled wistfully as he spoke of her, and  a genial sparkle had  colored his gray eyes.  It was not until he offered to give her and her brother a tour of his grounds that she learned what kind of a man he truly was._

_He had shown them beautiful gardens and his own modest sugar plantation.  He had taken them for a ride down by the shore and showed them a small cave that the islanders said was haunted.  All in all, the tour was an entertaining break in the monotony of waiting for someone from Kingston to come looking for them.  However, on the way back to Cornado's home, he decided to take a detour and show the siblings the prison.  He began to talk excitedly about his latest "acquisition," a man that he thought her brother would be very interested to see behind bars.  _

            _Cornado led the pair to a large iron gate that led into the prison yard.  She remembered the way that her stomach turned as she peered at the man Cornado was so proud of capturing.  The man had dark hair that hung down to his shoulders.   There appeared to be beads braided within his long locks  and they glittered in the intense sunlight.  He was wearing a shirt that had doubtless been white, but was now tattered and stained through with blood.  The man's hands and feet were shackled to a large stone column in the center of the yard.  Tiny rivulets of blood streamed down his wrists and ankles.  He was curled up tightly in the meager patch of shade that the column afforded and, in spite of the uncommon heat, he appeared to be shivering.  A few yards away, presumably just out of the man's reach,  stood a bucket filled with water._

_            Her eyes had widened considerably upon taking in the sight  of the wretched man, and she feared she might be sick from looking at his numerous injuries.  "Who is that?" she had managed to ask._

_            "That, Senora, es un pirata. A pirate" Cornado had answered boastfully, a malicious grin appearing on his face.  She felt a chill run up and down her spine.  The glint in the Spaniard's gray eyes was no longer inviting, instead his entire countenance betrayed the hate he felt towards the brigand chained in his yard.  _

_            "A pirate, you say?" her brother spoke up, sounding interested, "which one have you captured, pray tell?"_

_            "His name is Jack Sparrow, Capitán Tarret," the commandant responded, "I suspect that you have heard of this man?"_

_            Her brother cleared his throat, "um, yes, I have," he replied, regarding Sparrow quizzically.  Her brother's  eyes met hers briefly.  Though he did not say a word, his eyes betrayed that he was every bit as disgusted with this display as she.  She had seen her brother bring a great many pirates to justice in Kingston, but his eyes never held such an eerie glow as the commandant's.  Her brother had always remained rigidly calm during trials and executions.  He had once said he did not care for the way a spectacle was made of a man's death.  A sense of duty propelled him to appear at the hangings, and his satisfaction was merely professional._

_            "What has he done, Don Antonio, to be displayed in this manner?" she asked.  Maybe he had killed a guard or defiled the aristocrat's daughter.  Then, at least, this punishment would not seem unjustified.  Cruel, but not unjustified._

_            "He's a pirate," the Spaniard stated matter-of-factly._

_            "How long has he been like this?" she pressed._

_            Cornado hesitated, "two weeks."_

_            "Without water?"_

            _"Of course not, Senora, it has rained at least twice," the commandant chuckled._

            "Well, Don Antonio, I thank you for the tour of your grounds.  Most impressive indeed, but I fear that if my sister and I are to be dressed for dinner, then we should return to our rooms," Captain Tarret interjected.  He must have seen the look in her eye.  She was outraged and apparently the emotion showed in her face.  

            The Spaniard nodded and saw the pair to their rooms.  If he was aware of her disgust, he did not let it show.  He smiled pleasantly and spoke about the dinner menu.  

She could not think of eating.  The image of Jack Sparrow burned in her consciousness.  Every time that she blinked, she saw all of that blood.  She shook her head to try to abate the churning in her stomach.  How could Cornado be proud of that display?  "That man is a monster, Prescott!" she declared as soon as Cornado was out of earshot.

            Her brother sighed audibly.  Taking off his uniform jacket and hat, he crossed the room and stood in front of the window that overlooked the prison yard.  He shook his head, "Sparrow is a pirate."

_            "No man deserves to be tortured like that!  Pirate or not." _

_            "What exactly do you want me to say?" Prescott questioned, spreading his hands in a manner that indicated that he felt this situation was beyond his control.  "Jack Sparrow is a pirate.  No doubt, he has looted Spanish ships and settlements, as well as English ones.  He chose his life, and he got caught.  If I would have captured him, he would be swinging from a rope in the square, you know."_

_            "Would you have had your men beat him senseless first?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips._

_            "Of course not," he turned to face her.  His blue eyes were sympathetic.  He was not as imperturbable as he pretended to be.  He understood her, and generally agreed with her,  even when she lashed out at the worst times.  In the past, he had confessed that he was impressed with her bravery.  He would not allow himself to speak out the way that she did.  He was too much the proper Englishman. _

_ Since she was only half English, she did not have the same sense of modesty.  Prescott's mother had died in childbirth.  Overcome with grief, their father sailed on the first ship from London, and decided to raise his son in the West Indies.  About three years later, he met her mother, a native of Jamaica, and married her.  She had her mother's spirit, which did not hold propriety in high regard.  Despite Prescott's good sense to keep quiet in front of the commandant, somewhere inside, he knew that what Cornado was doing was wrong.  _

_He was four years older than she, but without his uniform he looked so much younger, less jaded.  Prescott had been a post captain for six years.  He had fought for the crown since he was thirteen.  He had seen men die for that crown, including their younger brother, Findley, who had died in his arms.  In spite of all he had seen, Prescott still appeared shaken by the Spaniard's callousness._

_            "Isn't there anything we can do?" she asked, joining her brother at the window._

_            He did not answer, his eyes were focused on the man in civilian attire  that had entered the prison yard with Cornado.  The man was kneeling beside Sparrow and trying to explain something to the commandant._

_            She felt a pang in her chest, as she realized that the pirate was probably dead.  Don Antonio threw his arms up in frustration and called two guards over to the stone column.  The guards removed the shackles, picked Sparrow up off of the ground, and unceremoniously carried him into a building just south of the yard._

_            "Is he dead?" she asked._

_            "I doubt it," Prescott replied shortly._

_            She regarded her brother curiously.  He would continue as soon as he sorted out his thoughts.  His blue eyes had narrowed.  He was staring intently at Cornado, who remained in the prison yard.  Cornado's focus was on the blood-stained column in the center of the yard.  "I don't think he wants Sparrow to die," he finished finally._

_            She pictured Sparrow's beaten body  huddled in the shadow of the stone pillar, "what do you mean?"  If Cornado did not want to kill Sparrow, then what in the world did he want to happen to the pirate?_

_            "Did you see his eyes when he was showing us what he had 'acquired?'"_

_            She shuddered, "yes."_

_ "He did not capture Sparrow in the name of justice.  He hates the man.  It has to be personal.  I think that man down there is a doctor, not an undertaker.  I don't think Cornado wants Sparrow to die, yet."_

_            "Do you mean that he's going to patch him up just to do this all over again?" she was appalled.  Nothing could warrant such treatment.  What had Sparrow done?_

_            Prescott did not answer right away.  He rubbed his eyes, before meeting her gaze, "it would seem so."_


	2. A Name

Disclaimer:  I still don't own Jack or anyone else from the movie.

A/N: Italics are still flashbacks.  

Thank you.  Thank you for the kind reviews.  I crave feedback, so please, keep them coming.

"Well, Captain, I do not keep my valuables in the garden, so if you would follow me, please, I will get your money," she said finally, forcing the memories of _La Cerradura_ to the back of her mind.

            "Lead on then, Miss – I'm afraid I don't remember your name, luv."

            "I didn't tell you my name." 

            The corner of the pirate's mouth turned up into a smirk, "are you going to?"

            "I haven't decided yet."

            She turned and headed up the cobblestone path, to the rear entrance of her estate.  She paused as the last remnants of the Caribbean sunset descended to meet the horizon casting an orange light on the ships in the harbor.  Closest the _Loyalty_, her brother's ship, bobbed with the gentle waves of the harbor.  At the loading dock, the _Interceptor, _Captain Norrington's ship and farther out the _Dauntless_, the flagship, prepared to make way with the dawn.  Nothing was out of the ordinary, save for one ship too far away for her to make out.  She glanced behind.  Sparrow was staring at the same ship.  Straining her eyes, she still could not see the ship's name, but she could clearly make out the colors.  Spanish. 

            A Spanish ship docking in Kingston was not out of the ordinary, neither was a two-headed goat.  However, the aforementioned ship, doubtless drew more attention than any bizarre farm animal.  Likely, any person in town who had noticed the strange ship had stopped in their tracks to investigate, but the pirate was not just any person.  According to the stories, he had been the scourge of the Spanish main.  Why would this ship captivate him so?  There was something in his eyes that she could not identify.  Sparrow had not shifted his gaze from the Spanish ensign, but she suspected that he no longer saw the red and yellow fabric billowing in the breeze.  His dark eyes were far away, and he seemed lost in thought.  This was a perfect opportunity to dash into the house and lock the pirate out of her life, but her feet refused to budge.  

            Acknowledging a sudden surge of excitement, she realized that the Spanish ship must have something to do with Sparrow being in Kingston.  Perhaps the ship had been trying to transport the prisoner, or possible the pirate escaped and stowed away on that ship.

            "Are you out here, ma'am?" her maid's voice jolted her from her reverie.

            Sparrow's eyes were instantly on her, "answer," he demanded quietly, "we wouldn't want anything to seem out of the ordinary now, luv."

            "Yes, Sarah," she called back, hoping her voice sounded normal, "what is it?"

            "There's a soldier her to see you," Sarah answered, "shall I show him to the terrace?"

            "Expecting soldiers, were you?" Sparrow accused as he once again unsheathed his cutlass, "that's quite a heartless trick, don't you think?"

            "I wasn't expecting anyone," she snapped, indignantly, "just calm down and let me get rid of him.  Hide in the shadows, if you want.  That way you can hear what we say, and you may slit my throat whenever you feel it is appropriate."  Stalking away, she realized that once again she was provoking a dangerous man.  Maybe this soldier was her way out of this situation.  After all, just because she had felt pity for Sparrow a year ago, she owed him nothing.  He was a criminal.  He never deserved Don Antonio's prison, but a British gallows was completely different.

            "Sorry to bother you so late in the evening, Senora,"

            Her eyes widened as she understood that the voice belonged to the Spanish soldier standing before her.  Sarah had neglected to mention _that.  _That single fact that changed everything.  Bringing a dangerous brigand to justice, British justice, she could live with.  She could not live with herself knowing that she had anything to do with a man being sent to _la Cerradura, _even if that man was a pirate.  Right or wrong in the eyes of the law, she would not turn Sparrow over to be tortured.

            "Not at all," she replied as soon as she rediscovered her voice, "what brings the Spanish army out to my home?"

            "Bad tidings, I'm afraid.  We were transporting prisoners from _la Cerradura_ to Spain and one has escaped," the soldier explained shaking his head apologetically.

            "Oh my," she remarked, feigning surprise, "is this man dangerous?  Do you think he's here in my house?  What should I do?"  As she bombarded the soldier with questions, she tried to fight the images of Sparrow's blood-stained body from taking over her thoughts.  If he had only recently escaped, then what other cruelties had he endured?

            "Now, now," the Spaniard soothed, "no need to panic.  We are just informing everyone in town, asking that you report anything suspicious and exercise more than the normal caution.  Have you noticed anything suspicious?"

            "No," she heard her voice answer the question, but she almost could not believe what it had said.  She had lied to a soldier, protected a pirate and was now just as much of a criminal.  Well, maybe not just as much, but she had broken the law just the same, for a pirate.

            "Do you live alone?  I could post a guard at your house until we make way."

            "No," she answered shortly.  The Spaniard looked as though he expected some sort of explanation.  When he received none, he bowed slightly.

"As you wish, Senora.  Goodnight," he said , and Sarah showed him to the door.

Slowly she descended the stone stairs that led back to the garden where she had left Sparrow.  She expected to find him sword drawn and poised for battle, instead he was sitting some distance away with his back against the trunk of a tree.  In the dim light, she could just make out his silhouette.  Stepping closer, she could see that his eyes were closed and a thin layer of sweat was covering his face.  Her breath caught in her throat.  Fever.

Her stomach turned, and she was powerless to repel the images of his battered body lying in _la Cerradura's _infirmary.  

_Her father had been a physician.  He had worked in the naval hospital in Portsmouth and operated his own office in Kingston.  She and her mother had often assisted him with patients.  They would mix all manner of herbs into salves or simply provide home cooked meals for the men and women in her father's care.  During those years, she had seen many wounded naval officers and merchant sailors.  Hers had been the last face that some of these men saw before falling asleep never to wake.  Despite this fact, her stomach had turned and her heart ached at the sight of Sparrow's tortured body shivering in the shadow of that stone column._

_After watching the soldiers carry Sparrow from the prison yard, she had feigned a headache to get her brother to go to dinner without her.  As soon as he had left her room, she had made her way down to the yard.  Trying to keep out of sight, she waited for Cornado to dismiss the civilian that Prescott had decided was a doctor.  She needed to talk to this man.  Inside, she had an uncontrollable and inexplicable desire to help the pirate, if only to spite Cornado._

_"Doctor," she whispered as the doctor neared the spot where she was waiting._

_"Sí, I mean, yes?"_

_Thank goodness the man spoke English, "Are you hear to tend to the pirate?" she questioned tentatively._

_Behind his wire rimmed spectacles, the doctor's eyes lowered, "yes."  He seemed sad.  Perhaps she was not the only one disgusted by the commandant's brutality.  _

_"My father was a physician.  Do you require any assistance?"_

_The doctor could not keep the surprise from showing on his face.  He smiled slightly, "I could not subject a young lady to a prison hospital." _

_"This young lady has been subjected to a naval hospital.  I feel I am fit to the task," her father had treated men from his majesty's navy, so she was not completely lying, thought she had never actually seen the inside of a naval hospital.  She did feel that she was fit to the task, prison infirmary or not.  For some reason, her heart had gone out to Sparrow.  Even a scallywag deserved to be treated better than this._

_"I see," the doctor replied, "I would welcome the help, if you are sure?"_

_She nodded as the doctor motioned for her to follow him to the pirate's room.  _

_Injury, she had seen before.  Sickness, she had seen before.  Death, she had seen before.  Still, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw in that room.  In the yard, the pirate had been far away and somehow, less real.  Now, in that tiny room, he was close and decidedly real.  His pain was real. _

_Curled on a small cot, Sparrow's shivering had worsened.  The doctor shook his head before beginning to work.  He removed Sparrow's soiled shirt to reveal a mix of old healed and partially healed wounds.  His chest was covered with deep purple bruises to say nothing of his back.  _

_As the doctor turned the captain over onto his stomach, Sparrow moaned softly, and she had to bite her lip against the wave of nausea that was crashing over her._

_"Flogged," the doctor said simply, as an explanation to the deep gouges criss-crossing the pirate's back._

_"What can I do?" she asked._

_The doctor motioned to a bowl of water and a pile of rags.  "These cuts need to be cleaned so that they don't become infected."  The doctor sat on a chair next to the cot and dipped a rag into the cool water.  Slowly and cautiously, he set the cloth on one of the lesions.  _

_Without warning, a painful cry escaped from the pirate and he jerked away from the doctor's touch.  He fell off of the cot, hissing as his back connected with the dirt floor.  Not knowing what else to do, she flew to the captain's side and caught his hand in her own.  Gently rubbing the top of his calloused hand, she whispered soothingly in his ear, "ssh, Mr. Sparrow, I'm a friend.  I'm not trying to hurt you.  The doctor just needs to dress the cuts on your back."  His eyes, bright with fever, danced around the room, as if he could not see her or the doctor  at all.  Then, without warning, he collapsed in a heap on the ground._

_"It's probably better that he's unconscious for this," the doctor sighed._

"Enjoying the view?" 

She blinked to banish the memories, before meeting Sparrow's gaze.  His eyes were still cold and unreadable, but they were beginning to betray him.  The man was weary.  "Are you satisfied that I didn't invite the entire army to my house to turn you in?" she answered, avoiding his comment, "I got rid of him – "

"Why?" he cut her off.

"Because Captain, I do not give my word lightly, but if you would like I'm sure that I could persuade that fine soldier to return and cart you off to prison," she snapped.

Sparrow lowered his eyes for a split second.  Something flickered across his face and was gone almost before she could recognize it.  She had hurt him.  More than that, she felt regret for what she had said.  Of all the people in the world, she knew what the man had endured at _la Cerradura._  To threaten to return him to that hellhole was undeniably cruel.

"Lead on, Miss . . ." the pirate murmured, "I'm afraid I still don't know your name," he said, a hint of a smile playing about his lips.

"Anamaria."


	3. Complication

Disclaimer: I have not yet discovered a way to own anyone from POTC, so I shall have to be content to write about them. 

A/N: Still having fun trying to make italics work with me, so I'm also adding **** to signify a flashback.  

Once again, Thank You Thank You Thank You for the reviews.  I so love to get feedback, please keep reading and keep letting me know how I'm doing.

"Anamaria," Sparrow repeated, "beautiful.  Shouldn't keep it to yourself, luv."

            "I'll remember that, next time a pirate drops in," Ana said.

            Her name did sound beautiful when he said it.  His voice was light when he was not threatening to kill her.  Yet, how he spoke was of no concern to her, or at least it shouldn't be.  He was a pirate.  This was a robbery.  She was to give him money and that would be the end of it.  Period.  Done deal.  

            Shaking her head, Anamaria turned and ascended the stairs to the back door, "so, Captain, how much money does it take to persuade a crew to join a pirate just escaped from prison?"  Another bold statement.  She could not fathom why she kept antagonizing a dangerous man, but nor could she stop herself from doing so.  Sparrow did not respond.  Ana turned back to find out why and saw him standing at the top of the stairs with his hand on his brow.  

            "Captain?  Are you alright?"

            Sparrow dropped his hand, "fine," he said softly.

            He slowly walked towards her.  Clearly he was in pain.  The blood on his shoulder had looked fresh, and she now noticed a slight limp.  Cornado's face flashed in front of her eyes.  His cruelty seemed to know no bounds.  Sparrow stopped and swayed slightly on his feet.  

            Anamaria hurried to his side, "no, you're not fine."  Hesitantly, she pushed his overcoat aside and barely stifled a gasp.  There was more blood than she expected to see.  Much more. 

*****

When the doctor had finished cleaning the wounds on Sparrow's back, the water in the bowl was as red as blood.  The doctor removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes.

_"Doctor, you must be tired," Anamaria said, "I'll tend to what's left, if you'd like?"_

_He regarded Anamaria sternly, "what's your interest in this man?" he asked, finally._

_She pursed her lips and produced the iciest glare she could muster, "What are you implying doctor?"_

_The man's eyes widened slightly, "nothing.  Nothing at all.  If it would not be too much an inconvenience, I would like to get some rest . . ."_

_"Certainly," she replied._

_The doctor helped her to turn Sparrow onto his back, so she could tend to the lesions on his chest, before bidding her goodnight and leaving her alone with the pirate.  As gently and quickly as she could, Ana bandaged the man's wounds.  He had not moved at all.  Lastly, she set to the cuts on his wrists.  Suspended from the stone column in the yard, the pirate's full weight had been carried by the irons that bound his wrists.  Shaking her head sadly, Ana delicately brushed the wetted cloth across the abrasion.  The pirate moaned softly and pulled his hand away from her ministrations.  _

_"Ssh," she soothed, "I'm almost finished."  She returned the cloth to his wrist.  Without warning, Sparrow grabbed hold of her arm.  She was taken aback by the strength of his grasp._

_"Please," he rasped.  His voice was no more than a whisper._

_Ana felt a pain in her chest.  This man's suffering was incomprehensible, not to mention meaningless.  No deed could warrant such a punishment.  She tugged her arm from Sparrow's hand and placed her own on his forehead.  "I don't want to hurt you.  Try to relax.  I'm almost done."_

_Sparrow shook his head, "water?" he said._

_Ana brought a small cup to his chapped lips and placed her hand on the back of his head for support.  "W-Who are you?" Sparrow questioned, his voice slightly clearer._

_"A friend," she answered, placing her hand on his shoulder, "how long were you out there?"_

_Sparrow furrowed his brow, but did not open his eyes, "I-I don't know.  A month . . . maybe."_

_"A month!" Ana exclaimed through gritted teeth.  That lying bastard.  Two weeks.  Two weeks was horrible in and of itself, but Sparrow had been chained in the blazing sun with no water for twice that long.  That monster.  How could someone hurt another human being to this degree?  _

_Ana returned her gaze to the injured pirate.  His face had relaxed, and he appeared to be asleep.  She quickly finished tending to his wrists before storming out of his cell.  _

_Her fists were clenched and her rage was emulating from her brown eyes.  Cornado was not going to inflict this kind of pain on a man and get away with it.  She was going to give him a piece of her mind and a swift kick in the – ._

_"Annie?" Prescott stepped in her way as she entered Cornado's manor, "where have you been?"  Her brother's blue eyes widened with understanding, and he knew the answer to his question before she uttered a word.  "Tell me you didn't."_

_"Didn't what?"_

_"You know what," he snapped as he took hold of her arm and ushered her into their rooms, "tell me where you were.  Tell me you weren't with that pirate."_

_"Would you like me to tell you where I was or that I wasn't with the pirate?" she said placing her hands on her hips and scowling._

_Prescott rolled his eyes, "Annie, pirates are – "_

_"I know dangerous and vile and not to be trusted," she finished._

_"Just . . . just promise me, promise me you will behave yourself until we are rescued from this god forsaken place.  Promise me you will not irritate Cornado."_

_"And why not?  That man is an animal!"_

_"Lower your voice."_

_"I will not."_

_"You will.  Do you want Don Antonio's hospitality to run out?  He has opened his home to us.  Like it or not, you must bite your tongue," Prescott said._

_"If you saw what he did," Ana said, her hands falling from her hips, "he was covered in blood.  Completely covered."_

_"I don't like it anymore than you do, but there isn't anything we can do."_

_*****_

"Why didn't you tell me that you were hurt?"

            "A doctor now too, luv?" he said weakly.

            "My father was a doctor and my – . . . well, I know enough."

            Sparrow raised his eyebrow, suspiciously.  He backed away from her and gingerly pulled his coat over his bloodied shoulder, "I'm fine," he said again.

            Ana nodded.  He was lying.  She could see that, but he was not going to trust her to help him.  She pushed open the rear door to her home and led the pirate to the study.  

            "So, once again I ask, how much money do you require to persuade a crew to serve under a pirate just escaped from prison?"

            Once again Sparrow did not answer.  Instead, he was leaning on the door frame, with his hand clutching his injured shoulder.

            "Captain," Ana said as she crossed the room to stand next to him, "at least allow me to dress your wound."

            Tentatively, she removed his hand from his shoulder.  He flinched, almost imperceptibly, at her touch.  His chocolate eyes searched her face.  She did not know what he was looking for, so she merely held his gaze.  Finally, he nodded and placed his good arm around her shoulders.  She helped him to one of the leather chairs in the study and was somewhat concerned by how heavily he leaned on her.

            Sparrow's eyes were closed when Ana returned with water, bandages, and alcohol, and his breathing seemed labored.  Images of his body shivering in the dank infirmary threatened to take control of her mind.  Who was this pirate that she should care at all for his well being?

            "Mr. Sparrow?"

            "Captain," he said, opening his eyes.

            Ana smirked, "fine, Captain.  I've brought alcohol to clean your wound.  It'll sting a bit."  She wet the cloth with the liquid and the aroma filled her nostrils.  Suddenly, Sparrow grabbed her hand, forcing her to drop the cloth.

            "What is that?"

            "I told you, alcohol."

            "Yes, yes.  But what?"

            "I don't know," Ana admitted, confused, "something the locals make, I think?"

            "Rum!?"

            "Yes, that's it. Why?"

            The pirate snatched the bottle from her hands, brought it to his mouth, and drank as deeply as a man who found an oasis in the desert.  "I've missed that," he said handing the bottle back to Ana.  Taking it, she brought it to her nose and sniffed.

            "You drink this?"

            "As much as I can hold."

            Ana raised her eyebrow.  Inexplicably, she lifted the bottle to her own lips and took a sip of the spicy liquid.  It burned as it slid down her throat.  She grimaced and blinked a few times.  She licked her lips and shrugged.

            Sparrow was watching her, an expression of amusement hovering around his face.  There was a glimmer in his dark, kohl-lined eyes that Ana had not noticed before, "well, what do you think, luv?"

            She cocked her head to one side, "Not bad, sweetheart," she replied, mocking the way he spoke.

            He stared back at her for a few seconds.  Ana watched him, watching her and an amazing thing happened.  He smiled.  "Anamaria, you might've made a fine pirate."

Ana laughed, "Me?  A pirate?  Mr. Sparrow, has that rum gone to your head already?"

            "No, luv.  Fact is fact, is all."

            Ana shook her head and laughed quietly as she tried to picture herself at the helm of a pirate ship during battle.  What she saw, while not as completely undesirable as she had expected, was quite a funny picture.  She sighed, "I bet you say that to all the girls."

            "I don't," Sparrow answered simply.

            As Ana finished cleaning his shoulder wound, she could not help but think that Sparrow was paying her a very high compliment.  She was flattered.  She did not know why she should care what this pirate saw in her.  All she did was drink a tiny bit of rum.  If that is all pirating takes, then she knew of a great many women from the taverns in town that would do just fine on a pirate ship.  

            "Now, I shall ask you for the last time, how much of my money do you require?"

            The pair agreed on an amount and Ana walked with the pirate to the door.  She half hoped that he would be too injured to want to leave just yet.  Perhaps he was, but he was leaving just the same, and Ana was inexplicably saddened by his impending departure.

            "Well, Captain Jack Sparrow, I do thank you for dropping in.  If you are ever in Kingston, do not hesitate to stop by," Ana said in a grand flourish, trying to disguise the fact that she really would not mind seeing the pirate again.

            Sparrow put his hands together in front of him and bowed, "thank you, luv, for making this robbery the most pleasant in recent memory."

            Ana smiled and pulled open the heavy front door only to come face to face with her brother, Prescott.  

Thanks again for the reviews.  I love hearing your comments.  Keep them coming!


	4. More Complications

Disclaimer:  Still don't own anyone or anything from POTC.  Still sad about it.  

A/N:  Italics and ** still mean a flashback.

Thank you once again for the reviews.   

Ana watched in shocked silence as every emotion in the spectrum paraded across her brother's face in a matter of seconds.  The last emotion was anger, and Prescott seemed to want to stick with that one.

            He slammed the door, grabbed Sparrow by his injured arm, and hauled him into the parlor, "Annie, what the hell is going on here!" he demanded through gritted teeth, "is this affinity for pirates going to control your life?"

            Sparrow raised his eyebrow and mouthed the word "affinity."  Try as she might Anamaria could not get her dropped jaw back into its proper position.  "Affinity for pirates." She had not even hinted that she was the same woman who had tended the pirate's wounds in _la Cerradura, _nor had he appeared to remember her.  The man was taking her money.  He had not been interested in who she was or where she had been, but he no doubt was very interested, now.

            "What are you doing here?" Ana said finally, hoping to completely side step her brother's question.

            "I'm your brother, Annie.  I am permitted to come and see how my little sister is fairing in her new house.  What I'm wondering is what the hell is he doing here?" Prescott nearly spat the question.  

            Miraculously, Sparrow did not respond.  He was glaring at Prescott and rubbing his wounded shoulder.  The man had been tortured at _la Cerradura._  The last thing he needed to deal with was the raving of an irate naval officer.

"Honestly, Christopher is probably turning over in his grave," her brother said throwing his hands up in frustration.

Sparrow's eyes met hers for a split second.

            "Leave him out of this," Ana said.  She had seen the question in the pirate's eyes at the mention of Christopher, but she chose not to acknowledge it.

            "You certainly have," Prescott accused.

            "Prescott, what goes on in my house is my business, and I'll thank you to remember that," Ana's voice was surprisingly calm.

            "And I'll thank you to remember that I am in His Majesty's Navy, and pirates are my business."

            Before Anamaria could reply, her maid stepped hesitantly into the room, "excuse me, Miss," she stammered.

            "Yes, Sarah?"

            "Captain Norrington to see you, mum."

            "What!?" Ana said, wheeling to face her brother, "you did this, didn't you?"

            "Invited one of your friends out to see your new home?  Yes, Annie, I did.  I was unaware that you were already entertaining."

            Ana crossed her arms in front of her chest, "I am not entertaining."

            "Quite the opposite, luv.  I find you very entertaining."

            Ana shifted her stare from her brother to the pirate.  He was leaning on the back of the sofa for support and wearing a satisfied grin.  "You are not helping," she said.

            "If you two are finished," Prescott interjected, "something must be done about James."

            Ana headed towards the front door, "come on, Prescott, we have to get rid of him."

            "Oh, no no no.  You have to get rid of him.  I think I'll stay here, and get to know your . . . friend a little better."

            "Broad minded are we, mate?" 

            "I am not your mate."

            Ana covered her face with her hands as she made her way to the front door.  Sparrow was going to get himself shot, if he was not careful.  She could not help but be worried about leaving him alone with her older brother.  Prescott had already said things that Ana wished he had not said.  What else was he going to say to Jack? 

            "Annie, you look lovely."

            James Norrington was a handsome man made more handsome by his new captain's uniform, but on this particular night, he was the last person on earth that Ana wanted to see.

            "Hello, James," she greeted trying to sound cheerful and nonchalant, "I don't believe I've congratulated you on your promotion."

            "Thank you," he said bowing his head.

            "I understand you've just had quite the voyage."

            James rolled his eyes, "I merely brought the new governor and his daughter to Port Royal.  Our sailing master kept telling stories about pirates and bad luck and so forth.  The poor governor was positively paranoid, so when he arrived safely, he recommended my promotion.  That's all."

            "I'm sure you sell yourself short.  Christopher always said that you would make captain in no time," Ana's mind was racing trying to come up with a reason to make James leave, "I understand you're to be off early tomorrow?"

            "Not anymore, I'm afraid."

            "No?"

            "No, it seems a prisoner has escaped from the Spanish authorities.  You've seen their ship, no doubt."

            "I have," Ana recalled the strange ship and the way that the vessel had caught Sparrow's attention.

            "Well, no one's to leave the harbor, for fear the man will stowaway on one of the ships."

            "When are you to embark, then?"

            "Hard to say.  The Spanish want to find their escapee without our help.  They don't want us to steal him, I suppose.  So, it could be weeks, relying on Spanish competency."

            "That long?"

            James nodded, "and I shall have to wait, the _Interceptor_ is to convey the Spanish ships to Spain."

            "The Navy plays nursemaid to the Spanish, now?"

            "Apparently, the prisoner's are pirates.  The Crown has a vested interest in ending piracy in these waters, so we are to make sure the prisoners do not escape," James explained, "You know, Annie, wherever there is a pirate involved.  There I will be."

            Her eyes widened slightly, "you don't know how right you are," she said, almost to herself.

            "Well, I am sorry that I cannot stay longer.  You're house does look very fine, indeed, but I'm afraid I have to get back to the fort and prepare a room for some Spanish aristocrat."

            "What?"

            "A Don Cornado.  He's the commandant from _la Cerradura, _he's accompanying the prisoners to Spain.  He's arriving on his personal ship tonight and will need a place to stay until this business is dealt with."

            Ana's heart threatened to cease beating at the mention of Cornado's name.  He was here?  In Kingston?  Oddly, her first thought was for Jack Sparrow's safety.  What would Cornado do if he recaptured the pirate?  She could not begin to imagine how that butcher would punish an escaped criminal.

            "Apparently, I'm in charge of seeing that the man is looked after," James was saying.  He rolled his eyes again, "I have a suspicion that the task is not going to be as simple as it sounds."

            Anamaria forced a laugh.

            "Goodnight, Annie."

            "Goodnight."

            She stood frozen at the closed door, momentarily lost in memory.  

*****

            _"Senora," Don Cornado greeted from  the door of the siblings' rooms, "your brother tells me you were feeling ill.  Nothing serious, I trust?"_

_            Prescott shot her a warning glare.  _

_            "No, Don Antonio," she said, "I'm fine."_

_            "Were you outside alone?" the Spaniard asked._

_            Anamaria could not believe this shrew had the audacity to act concerned for her well being.  Clearly, he had no respect for human life.  "I just took a walk to clear my head."_

_            "Ah, I see."_

_            "Senor, I noticed the pirate is gone from the yard.  He hasn't escaped has he?" she asked, ignoring Prescott's hand pulling on her arm.  She knew that she should probably not ask, but her desire to hear what this monster had in mind for Sparrow overpowered her common sense.._

_            The commandant laughed quietly, "oh, no.  Of course not.  No one has ever escaped from _la Cerradura."

            _"No?"_

_            "No.  The pirate is in the infirmary."_

_            "The infirmary?" Ana nearly laughed out loud, "from what I saw earlier, I think your regard for his health comes too little too late."_

_            Prescott coughed loudly, "My dear, you do still look a fright, Annie.  Better get back to the bedroom and lie down, don't you think?"_

_            "Not at all, I feel fine," Anamaria replied, her eyes not wavering from Don Antonio's._

_            "No, you're not," Prescott said, "best to get to bed straight away.  Don't want this to turn into something serious."_

_            "It won't"_

_            "It might," Prescott had placed himself between his sister and the Spaniard and was directing her towards her bedroom._

_            "I'm not worried," she demanded, trying to resist him._

_            "I can see that," he answered as he pushed her down on the bed and closed the door._

*****

As a little girl, Ana's mother had warned her of demons that walked the earth as men.  As a grown woman, Ana was sure that the warning was just her mother's way of making sure that her daughter said her prayers and sat still during church.  She had stopped believing in ghosts and demons years ago.  That is, until she met one on a prison island a year ago.  She had spent the following year trying to forget what she had seen at _la Cerradura._  Now, it seemed the demon from her past was back to haunt her.

She could hear Jack's voice as she slowly approached the parlor.

            "And then," he was saying, "they made me their chief."

            "That is a wonderful tale, but I'm sure nothing could be farther from the truth," Prescott replied.  Before Jack could respond to his insult, Prescott turned to face Ana, "well?"

            "Well what?"

            "What have you done with James?"

            "Stuffed him in the closet."

            Prescott scowled.  Jack chuckled softly.  Ana noticed that the pirate seemed to be relying on the sofa's support much more that when she had left.

            "He had to return to the fort," she said to satisfy Prescott.

            "I thought he was leaving at dawn?" he said.

            "Not anymore."

            "No."

            Ana shifted nervously under her brother's stare.  She had no trouble holding her own with a pirate threatening her life, but her brother could still disarm her in a way that no other man could.  "It seems an escaped prisoner is holding things up," she said not meeting either man's eyes.

            "Well, we can fix that," Prescott said, re-claiming his hold on the pirate's arm.

            "Prescott!" Ana began, "this is my house and you have no right to barge in here and manhandle my guests."

            Sparrow looked up from his injured arm.  Clearly he was surprised by her course of action.  He must have expected her to tell her brother about the robbery so that Prescott would happily march him back to the Spanish guards.  

            She was not, however, going to let that happen.  Though it might prove to be quite a fight.  Her brother was angry, that was obvious.  He had often cautioned her about pirates.  He said they were always scheming and were not to be trusted.

            "No right," Prescott repeated, "I may not have that right, but I do have my duty."

            "Duty?"

            "Yes, to King and country, remember?  The law is the law, and pirates break that law," Prescott said, "there is no good reason for me not to return this man to Spanish authority."

            He was right.  Jack Sparrow was a pirate.  He broke the law, and that was his choice and his life.  Prescott had drawn his pistol.  He was still speaking to Jack, saying something about shooting him should he even think of moving.

            Ana squared her jaw.  This was not happening.  This was not going to happen.  She was not going to be responsible for sending Sparrow to be tortured by Don Cornado.

            "You bastard," she yelled.  That certainly got the attention of both men.  Sparrow had said that she would have made a fine pirate.  Maybe he had been teasing, or maybe he really saw something in her.  Either way, she was not going to let him down.

            "Annie?" her brother was completely caught off guard by her vulgarity.

            "One good reason, Prescott?  I'll give you one," Ana said, her fists clenched, "I know what the law says.  The law says that pirates hang, but we both know that the Spanish have no intention of carrying out that sentence.  I'm your sister.  I know you.  Cornado is an animal.  You know what he does to the men he captures.  You saw it.  If you send Captain Sparrow back to that swine then you're no better than he is, and you are no brother of mine."

            Sparrow's brow was knit into a face of perfect confusion.  She had said a bit more than she had intended to say.  She said Cornado's name.  As far as Jack knew, she had no reason to know Cornado's name.   His eyes looked almost as black as the kohl that lined those dark pools.

            Prescott was dumbfounded.  Ana had lashed out before.  She had yelled at her brother before.  But this was different, and he knew it.  Ana could almost see a smile threatening to materialize on her brother's face.  She had impressed him.

            He lowered his pistol, "that is a good reason," he said.

            "Yes, it is," Ana agreed, though her voice betrayed the surprise she was feeling.  Was Prescott taking her side?

             He turned to face Sparrow, "What I do now," he said, "I do for her . . . not you.  I love my sister, Sparrow, but I do not forget my duty.  Hurt her, and I'll see you dead."

            "Shaking in me boots, mate."

            "Come to think of it," Prescott continued, "if I ever lay eyes on you again, I'll make sure you hang.  Are we clear?"

            "Inescapably," Sparrow answered.

            "Good."

            Prescott strode out of the parlor.  Ana heard the front door slam.  He was gone, and Jack was safe, for the moment.

            Ana did not quite want to face the pirate.  She had no idea what to say.  Her grand performance just moments ago must have raised a few questions for the pirate, who already did not seem to trust her.  She chanced a glance in the captain's direction.  He was not paying attention to her at all.  His eyes were closed and he was leaning nearly all of his weight on the back of the sofa.  She could see that the bandage on his shoulder was soaked red.

            "Mr. Sparrow, you're bleeding," she stated the obvious as she hurried to his side.

            "Captain, luv, Captain Sparrow," he sighed softly, "now that the family gathering is over, I-I shall be on me way."

            He moved to walk past her but stopped short.

            "Are you alright?"

            "Fine," he said, "just a b-bit . . ."

            Sparrow did not get to finish whatever he was trying to say.  Instead, his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the floor.

That's it for now.  Don't forget to drop me a review.  I'd love to know what you think.

Cal:  Your reviews never fail to make me smile.  I am so grateful that you take the time to tell me what you think of my little story!  Thank you.  Thank you.


	5. Questions

Disclaimer:  Sparrow, Ana and the rest of the POTC world are unfortunately, still not mine.

A/N:  As always, I thank you for the many kind reviews.  Your words are what keeps me going.  Sorry to say that I was a bit confusing with that last chapter.  Christopher was not Ana and Precott's brother.  They do have a dead brother, but his name was Findley.  I didn't really explain Christopher too well, but fear not you'll know who he is by the end of this chapter.  

Now, onto the story!

"Jack!  Jack wake up!" Ana was kneeling beside the fallen pirate and shaking him by his good shoulder.

            Sparrow did not move.

            "For heaven's sake," she said to herself, "I just saved you from a bloodthirsty Spaniard.  The least you could do is stay alive long enough to thank me."

            Sparrow still did not move.  Ana placed her ear to his chest.  His heart, at least, was still beating.  Ana ran her hands through her dark hair.  Clearly, the man was hurt much worse than he had let on.  He needed to rest, and he did not need to worry about duty driven naval officers or being returned to a Spanish prison.

            Ana's eyes drifted up the staircase to the guest room, then back down the 24 steps to Sparrow's limp body.

            How in the world was she – Prescott!  He couldn't have gotten far.

            In seconds, Ana was on her feet and running to the road, "Prescott?"

            She heard footsteps, "Annie, what's happened?  Are you alright?"  Prescott's gentle blue eyes were full of concern.

            "I'm fine.  It's Sparrow," she explained, dragging her brother back into the parlor, "he's collapsed."

            "Sparrow?" he said, "Annie, this soft spot for pirates that you've developed is going to be the end of you."

            "Yell at me later, will you," Ana said, "right now I need your help."

            A soft spot for pirates.  Honestly, Prescott could always be counted on to tell her what she did not want to hear.  Truth, or not.  Maybe she did have a soft spot for the pirate.  Maybe not.  Whatever the case, he was badly injured, and she could not stop herself from worrying about him.

            Prescott carried the unconscious pirate up to the guestroom and set to work on building a fire.  Ana put a fresh bandage on Sparrow's shoulder and was pulling the covers up when she noticed her brother brushing off one of his arms, "what is it?" she asked.

            Prescott extended his arm, "blood," he said, referring to the red stain on his sleeve, "get his coat off."

            Pulling down the pirate's dark coat, the pair discovered that his white shirt was stained with blood.  Ana squared her jaw, knowing what she would see when they removed Sparrow's shirt.  His back was still covered with deep slash marks.  The man had not been given the chance to heal, and a few of the cuts looked infected.  His scarred chest was a myriad of bruises overlapping bruises.

            "Dear God," Ana exclaimed, crossing herself.  If it was possible, Sparrow looked worse than he had when she had tended to him in the prison.

            Prescott's face was a mask of calm, but his eyes betrayed him.  Ana could see a storm,  "clean the cuts with water and rags.  I'm going to the _Loyalty._  Our surgeon has concocted some sort of cream that helps with infections."

            "Thank you, Prescott."

            Prescott closed his eyes, "Annie, I don't like Cornado or what he does anymore than you do," he reopened his eyes and fixed them on his little sister, "but, I don't like what you're doing either.  I'll give you the cream.  I won't turn Sparrow in, but that is it."

            Ana nodded.

            "You're a big girl, and you can make your own mistakes."

            Prescott turned on his heels and disappeared into the hallway.  

            Ana cleaned Sparrow's wounds and tried to remain calm, despite the fact that the pirate was burning with fever and had not stirred since he fell in the parlor.  She closed her eyes, "Captain Sparrow, what horrors have you seen?"

*****

            _Anamaria leaned against the wall of the prison yard and watched as the sailors from _HMS Calypso _refilled her stores from the tiny village south of Don Antonio's manor.  The sloop had arrived early this morning to convey her and Prescott back to Kingston.  At long last, she could leave this cursed prison._

            _Nearly three weeks had passed since she and her brother had been shipwrecked on this island.  In that time, she had seen the darkest side of humanity.  _

_            Two nights ago, Jack Sparrow had been returned to the yard.  Prescott had made her promise that she would not visit him again, or go near the yard, but she knew the pirate was there.  Last night, very late, she had heard him.  She awoke from a dream about the _Resolute_ sinking and swore that she could hear the cries of the men as they struggled to keep the ship afloat.  As it turned out, she had heard a man's cries.  _

_            This morning, Sparrow was once again chained to the stone column.  Fresh blood dripped from his back.  The cries had definitely been real._

*****

            Prescott returned some time later.  Ana put the salve on Sparrow's wounds, before joining her brother downstairs in the parlor.  The man still had not moved.

            "What is it about this pirate?" Prescott asked as she sat in the chair next to him.

            "It is nothing about _this_ pirate.  It is everything about _that_ Spaniard," Ana replied, "doesn't your stomach turn when you think about what that man is capable of?"

            "Annie, I already told you that I don't like Cornado anymore – "

            "Then how in the world could you entertain the notion of taking Jack back to him?"

            "Jack?" Prescott repeated, his eyebrow raised, "I didn't realize the two of you were on a first name basis."

            "You're insufferable."

            "And you are becoming dangerously close to a pirate."

            "If he is such a terrible person then how do you explain that he has done nothing – Nothing, to hurt me?"

            "Oh, I see.  You've discovered the fabled gentlemanly rogue?"

            "Are you making fun of me?"

            "Yes."

            Ana sighed, "I just cannot stand by and watch a man suffer like that, never mind being responsible for handing him over to the likes of Cornado."

            "So, what are you going to do?  Keep him in your guestroom indefinitely?"

            "Yes.  And maybe we'll have a torrid affair and run away together."

            "You call me insufferable?"

            "Look, Prescott.  I'm worried about him.  Pirate or not, I'd prefer if he didn't die upstairs.  So, yes, I'll let him stay until he's well enough to go."

            "You're getting in over your head."

            "What do you make of him?" Ana asked, ignoring her brother's last comment.

            "What do you mean?"

            "Well, you tracked down quite a few pirates.  What do you know about Sparrow?"

            "I think Sparrow is either – "

            "The best or the worst pirate to ever sail," Ana finished Prescott's thought with a smile, "you've told me that before.  Why is he the best or the worst?"

            Prescott leaned closer to his sister, "do you remember the story about him escaping from the East India Company?"

            "Yes.  I read that he vanished without a trace.  The papers made him sound like a ghost."

            "I remember," Prescott agreed, "there are a lot of stories like that about Sparrow.  Fantastic tales with no real explanation.  He could be a very lucky man.  Perhaps he was caught by the seven dumbest agents that work for the East India Company.  On the other hand, he could be a genius.  His escape could have been so well planned and executed that it really did seem like he just disappeared into thin air."

            A smile crossed Ana's lips as she pictured Jack vanishing in a cloud of smoke.

            "No one really knows anything about the man," Prescott continued, "he showed up in these waters about four years ago on a ship with black sails called _the Black Pearl._  Before that, next to nothing is known about Sparrow, just a lot of wild stories."

            "Such as?"

            "Oh, that he was the son of some well to do family, or that he's a colonial.  There's even a rumor that he was in the navy."

            "Do you think that's true?"

            "Your guess is as good as mine."

            "Do you know how he ended up in prison?"

            "Don Antonio said he was caught in one of the Spanish colonies.  He didn't say how.  They brought Sparrow to _la Cerradura_ because no one has ever escaped.  So much for that."

            "What happened to his ship?"

            "_The Black Pearl_ still sails, different captain, obviously," Prescott said, his expression changing slightly.

            "What's that face for?"

            "Just seems strange a pirate giving up his ship."

            "Could it have been taken from him?"

            "That would be mutiny," Prescott said solemnly.  Two years ago her brother had been one of three captains that presided over a court martial in which the officers of _HMS Neptune_ were accused of mutiny.  They were found guilty and hanged.

            "Some how I cannot see pirates holding courts of inquiry."

            "They don't," Prescott said, "if a pirate crew mutinies, then usually the former captain is never seen nor heard from again."

            "Do you think that's what happened to Sparrow?"

            "Could be.  That would explain his capture, if he'd been wounded or something.  Maybe he'd just given up, a pirate isn't much without his ship.  Could be that Sparrow didn't care if he lived or died anymore," her brother sighed, staring blankly into the crackling fire.

            "Careful, Prescott, you're beginning to sound like you give a damn," Ana chided.

            "And you're beginning to sound like him," Prescott said, gesturing up the stairs, "don't curse.  It's unbecoming."

            "There is a pirate sleeping in my guestroom.  I am so far past propriety –"

            "Yes, I know.  But he won't be there forever," Prescott interrupted, "do not forget who you are," he stood up and the siblings walked to the door, "I will not say a word about this as I promised.  This is the end though, Annie.  No more helping pirates."

            "Thank you," Ana said, and it was the sincerest thank you that she had ever felt.  Her brother could have easily his behind his commission and arrested Sparrow without a second thought.

            Quietly as she could, Anamaria pushed open the door to the guest bedroom.  Despite her best efforts, the heavy door creaked loudly.  Sparrow turned his head and fixed his espresso eyes on her as she approached the bed.

            She smiled, "welcome back."

            "Couldn't wait to get ol' Jack in bed, could you?"  His voice was soft and tired, but his eyes sparkled with a mischief that Ana had not seen before.

            Ana shrugged and sat on the side of the bed, "I guess you have me figured out . . . sugar."

            Sparrow furrowed his brow and struggled to pull his ragged body to a sitting position.  Ana rushed to his aid, "I don't have you figured out at all," he whispered leaning his head against the wooden frame of the bed.

            She pursed her lips.  Apparently, he had not forgotten her display in the parlor.  No doubt, he would demand to know how she knew about Cornado and his prison, and she was not sure that was a story she wanted to relive just yet.

            "Captain, are you trying to kill yourself?" she asked, overlooking Sparrow's statement.  Instead, she began wiping the sweat from the injured man's brow.  He was watching her intently, but she did not meet his eyes, "you really should be resting." 

            "Who's Christopher?"

            "What?" Ana said, surprised by Sparrow's question.

            "You know, the chap your brother seems to think is turning summersaults in the ground?"

            Ana lowered her eyes to her left hand, "he was my husband."

I hope that wasn't too mean of me to leave you hanging here, but I want to keep you all coming back for more!  Don't forget to drop me a review before you move on.   I have to once again thank everyone who has reviewed so far.  Cal, I am so grateful that you take the time to leave me those incredible reviews.  I only hope that my little story lives up to them.  Kungfuchick, I'm so glad you like this story.  Mecano_Grl don't worry, not every Spaniard in my story will be as awful as Cornado.  Lykosdracos, welcome home.  I hope you had a great vacation, thanks for coming back to my story.

Alright, I have finals this week so I'm not sure how much I'll get to write, but the next chapter is in my head and begging to get out (it's probably scary in there) so I'll try to update soon!


	6. More Questions

Disclaimer:  Still don't know a way to make Jack Sparrow my own, so I shall be content to write about him.

A/N:  Well, I had finals today and yesterday and I think they went very well.  Only one more to go!  So I decided to celebrate and spend a bit of time with Jack and Ana.  Hope you don't mind.  Don't forget to review on your way out.    

As always, italics and ** are a flashback.

Anamaria waited for Jack to respond to her admission, but he didn't.  Perhaps a dead husband was not the best conversation starter, but the silence in the room was deafening.

            It had been a long time since Ana had thought about Christopher.  After his death, all she could do was think about him.  She would dwell on her last words to him.  She would cry because "Don't forget your overcoat," could never encompass what she had felt for the man.  She remembered pacing the floor and yelling at God for taking Christopher away from her.  She closed her eyes against the memories, only opening them again when she felt Sparrow's calloused hand on top of her own.

            "How did he die?" 

            "His ship was caught in the hurricane that passed through last August.  He was thrown overboard."  

            "I'm sorry."

            "It wasn't your fault," Ana said, finally meeting the pirate's gaze.

            Sparrow's eyes narrowed slightly, "how do you know Cornado?" he said changing the subject, his voice a bit colder than before.

            Christopher's memory was pushed from Ana's mind as another one took its place.

*****

            "Everything's just about ready," her brother announced as he trudged up the rocky path from the dock to where Ana stood by the prison yard, "we can finally say goodbye to this place."

_            "Not soon enough, if you ask me," Ana said._

_            Prescott nodded, but before he could reply, a bone chilling scream pierced the humid tropical air.  Ana's eyes widened as she turned towards the direction of the sound.  That was the same shriek that she had heard in the middle of the night._

_            "Go," she heard Prescott's voice._

_            Without hesitation, she went as fast as her feet would take her to the iron gate of the prison yard.  Forcing her eyes to remain open, she took in the scene.  _

_            The pirate's left arm was strapped down to a stone block in the yard.  Blood was oozing from his forearm.  A guard stood a few feet behind the pirate, with an empty bottle in one hand and a burning torch in the other._

_            Ana fought against the bile rising up from her stomach as the stench of burnt flesh assaulted her senses, "what in the name of heaven . . ."_

_            "Punishment." _

_            Ana turned to face Cornado.  She had not noticed his arrival.  He stood staring at the pirate with satisfaction in his cold gray eyes._

_            "For what?" she asked._

_            Cornado looked at her sternly, "for a lifetime of vile crimes," he said indignantly._

_            Ana turned back to the pirate.  He was lying on the ground, as the guard was roughly untying the straps that bound his bleeding arm.  "What did you do to him?"_

_            "He has been burned."_

_            "What?"_

_            "It is the only way to cleanse the body of the sort of sins this man has committed."_

_            "You lit his arm on fire!?"_

            Ana's heart was hammering in her chest.  Such cruelty she had never heard of before, let alone seen with her own eyes.  She was trembling with the hate she felt for the animal that stood next to her.

_            The guard was exiting the yard, and without thinking, Ana pushed past him and strode up to the injured pirate.  She could see the skin on his arm blistering._

_            There was a cask of water with a ladle in the far corner of the yard.  Ignoring the protests of Cornado and his guards, she filled the ladle and knelt down next to Sparrow._

_            "Drink," she said softly as she brought the cool liquid to his parched lips.  She could hear Cornado's footsteps behind her. He was speaking in Spanish, but there was no mistaking the anger in his voice.  She should not have entered the yard, but the pain that monster was capable of inflicting was revolting.  She placed her hand on the pirates shoulder and recalled the words to the prayer her brothers always said before going to sea._

_            "Courage, Captain, do not stumble though thy path be dark as night," she whispered softly, as the wretched man drank from the ladle.  _

_            Before she could finish, she felt a hand on her arm.  Cornado hauled her brusquely to her feet, "what do you think your doing," Cornado spat his question.  _

_            Ana stared into Cornado's eyes, searching for some semblance of human emotion.  All she saw was hate.  His hand was still clamped around her arm._

_            "Let her go."_

            Cornado fixed his eyes over her shoulder.  The command came not from Prescott as Ana had imagined, but from the pirate.  Somehow the man had managed to pull his battered body from the ground.  Ana tried to face him, but Cornado's tight grip on her arm prevented her from moving.  The Spaniard drew his pistol and pushed Anamaria out of his way.  She turned just in time to see Cornado bring the butt of his weapon down across Sparrow's face.  The pirate crumbled to the ground.

*****

            "My husband's family was very wealthy," Ana said, "we knew all of the landowners, some better than others."

            If she had been asked, Anamaria could not have explained why she lied to the pirate.  He had asked her a simple question that he probably had the right to have answered.  Maybe it was the scars that Sparrow carried not only on his skin or the way his deep eyes darkened at the mere mention of the Spaniard's name.  Whatever the reason for her lie, Sparrow seemed to buy her explanation.

            "Your brother seemed to know him," the pirate said rubbing his forehead.

            "Prescott has been to _La Cerradura_."

            Sparrow raised his eyebrows.

            "Why were you there?" Ana asked.

            "It's a prison, why do you think I was there?" he snapped.

            Ana pursed her lips, "you know for a man who robbed me and is now enjoying the benefits of my hospitality, you let your tongue run rather freely, don't you Captain?"

            Sparrow dropped his hand from his forehead, "listen, luv . . ."

            "I have told you my name.  I would appreciate if you would use it."

            The pirate's eyes widened.

            Anamaria continued, "I have gone through rather a lot of trouble for you  -"

            "I didn't ask you to."

            Ana stood up from her spot next to Sparrow, "no, you didn't.  I apologize.  I acted decently and expected the same from you.  I suppose I should have known better than to expect anything from a pirate," she said and headed for the door.

            "Anamaria –"

            "Goodnight, Mr. Sparrow."

            Ana stalked down the hall to her room.  She closed the door behind her.  Leaning against it, she sighed heavily.  Why did she let that man get to her?  He was merely a criminal who happened to be injured and taking rest in her guestroom.  True, he had stood up for her in _la Cerradura_, but that was his choice.  She owed him nothing.  Even if she did, she had more than repaid that debt by giving him money, dressing his wounds, and lying to the Spanish guard.

            She sighed again.  Her brown eyes came to rest on the ornately carved wardrobe by the window.  Crossing the room she opened the wooden doors.  Inside hung three sets of civilian attire and four Royal Navy uniforms.  Three bore the epaulettes of a captain's uniform.  Her husband's uniform.  One was the simple uniform of a midshipman.  Findley had been fifteen when he was cut down in battle.  Both men were gone, but Ana had never been able to part with what little she had left to remember them by.  On the bottom of the wardrobe was a pair of boots and the leather tri-corner hat that  Christopher used to wear whenever they would go down to the beach and walk along the sandy shore.  

            She held the hat in her hands, "what am I doing, Chris?" she said aloud.

            Ana woke early the next morning.  She had fallen asleep in the chair next to the wardrobe still holding her husbands hat.  For the first time in months, she had dreamed of _la Cerradura._  It had taken her so long to banish those memories only to have them crashing down upon her again with Sparrow's arrival last night.

            She yawned and made her way to the guestroom.  She did not feel that she owed Sparrow any sort of explanation, but perhaps an apology was in order.

            "No," she whispered entering the pirate's room.  The bed was empty.  Sparrow was gone.

That's it for now.  I want to once again thank everyone for the wonderful reviews.  Master Lizard, thanks for the medical terminology.  Sorry that my story kept you from sleep, but I'm glad you liked it.  Roseate thanks for the review, I'm happy to hear that you're hooked.  Kungfuchick, I'm glad to see that you seemed to like my little twist.  Mecano Grl, I'm glad you enjoy my spunky Ana.  I think that was probably a big part of who she was even before she became a pirate.  And you're right they probably didn't have espresso back then, but I've watched POTC too many times to count and that's just what I think of when I see Jack's eyes.  Cal, what can I say?  I am so floored that you take the time to leave me such great reviews.  I'm glad you like the interaction between Jack and Ana and between Prescott and Ana.  You're feedback never fails to make me smile, and it keeps me writing.  So, please everyone leave a me a review and let me know what you think.


	7. The Search

Disclaimer:  Yes, yes, we all know that they belong to Disney.  *sigh*

A/N:  I am so blown away by the great response to this story.  Thank you.  Thank you for the great reviews.  Keep them coming!  

            My finals are over now, so I hope to be able to give lots and lots of time to Jack and Ana :-)  Okay, now on to the story.           

"Sarah," Ana shouted as she rushed back to her room, "Sarah!"

            Ana stood in front of a mirror and took in her appearance.  Her black hair was falling in messy tendrils around her face and dark circles were hanging from her brown eyes.  Blood stained her dress, the blood of a pirate that was most certainly in danger.  She had to find him.

            "Sarah?  Where the –"

            "Yes, mum?" her maid asked as she entered Ana's room sheepishly.

            "I need to go in to town.  Help me dress."

            "It's still early."

            "I am perfectly capable of telling the time, Sarah."

            Ana's mind was reeling.  Why on earth would he leave?  He was injured, and he was wanted not only by the British authorities but the Spanish as well.  Why in the world would he leave the relative safety of her home.  Unless . . . no.  That was silly.  He would not leave on account of what she had said to him last night.  She had been cold and short with the man, but what did he care?  The man was a pirate, surely he had been insulted before.  No, her words could not be the reason. Could they?

            "The gentleman left not twenty minutes ago," Sarah offered as she buttoned the back of Ana's dress.

            "What does that have to do with anything?"

            "Nothing, I just thought . . ."

            "Thought what?"

            "Who is he, mum?"

            Ana chewed on her lower lip.  Sarah had never been the most tight lipped servant she had known.  Telling her that the man who spent last night in her house was an escaped criminal might not be the best idea.  Sarah was a faithful servant, but who knows who she would tell?  

            "He is, uh, an old friend of the family and . . . and I don't think it would be wise to tell anyone that he is here," Ana's explanation sounded weak even to her own ears.

            "Mum, are you and he . . . you know?"

            Ana's eyes widened.  What kind of woman did Sarah think she was?  Inviting strange men into her bed barely a year after her own husbands death!  On the other hand, that would provide a convincing excuse . . . "I suppose there isn't any use in denying it," she said trying to make it sound as though she was sharing her deepest secret, "Sarah, you musn't tell anyone."

            Sarah giggled as she finished buttoning Ana's dress, "ooh, I thought so, mum.  If you'll forgive me for saying so."  
            "Of course."

            "He is handsome, isn't he?" Sarah gushed.

            Ana arched an eyebrow.  Handsome?  "Yes, I suppose he is."

            Before long, Ana was on her way to town, after piling her thick hair on top of her head and painting her face in the manner of every fashionable woman in Kingston.  Unlike the other women, she was walking to town, as she still had not hired a stableman or anyone to drive her carriage.  Those details seemed rather inconsequential compared to the current task at hand.

            Where to find a pirate in a bustling city?  He had wanted to find a crew and a ship.  She strolled down the road to the harbor.  Even at this hour the docks were a mess of activity.  Navy men, fishermen, and of course the Spanish, were shouting orders and carrying all manner of things onto different vessels.

            "Annie?"

            "James!" Ana's voice came out as a high pitched squeal.  She cleared her throat, "James," she said sounding more normal, "how good to see you."

            James Norrington approached, smiling.  Another man was with him, wearing a distinctly different uniform.  The second man had bronzed skin, black hair and eyes and a thin scar that ran from his left eye to his jaw.

            "Annie, may I present Captain Miguel Cornado."

            Her body stiffened slightly at the mention of that name.  The Spaniard smiled broadly.  Bowing gallantly he placed a single kiss on the top of her hand.  

            "A pleasure, I'm sure," Ana said.

            "No, m'Lady.  I am quite certain the pleasure is all mine."

            "What brings you to Kingston, Captain Cornado?" Ana asked tugging her hand back.  Quite obviously this man was used to making women swoon with that display, but at the mention of that name, Ana could not stop the images of _la Cerradura_ from flooding her brain.  She could hear the pirate's screams as though it had been last night.  

            "Please, call me Miguel.  I have come with my father," he said, "we are taking prisoners to Spain."

            "To Spain?"

            "Sí, outrageous stories about pirates have been making news in my country, of late.  From the tales, you would think these pirates are gods.  Their Majesties thought it would be best to dispel the rumors and show the people what dreadful creatures pirates truly are." 

            Miguel delivered his explanation in a typical bored aristocratic tone, but something in his eyes gave Ana a momentary spark of hope.  

            "Forgive me, Señor –"

            "Miguel."

            "Miguel.  Forgive me, but you do not seem as though you share their Excellency's opinion of pirates."

            The Spanish Captain shrugged, ignoring the shock on Norrington's face.

            "Personally, I do not care one way or another for pirates."  Ana arched her eyebrow, perhaps Don Cornado's son had managed to remain human in the wake of his father's barbaric tendencies.

            "Yes, well, we all must do our duty to our country," James said, apparently uncomfortable with the direction that the conversation was going.

            "Of course," Miguel nodded curtly.

            "I'm sorry, Annie, but Captain Cornado and I really must be getting to the fort."

            "It was nice to have met you," Miguel said, once again kissing her hand and smiling widely.

            "And you," Ana said trying to mirror his smile.

            Shaking her head, Ana refocused on locating one wayward pirate.

            Over an hour later, she found herself at the very same spot she had started.  She searched the docks and every restaurant and store that lined the harbor.  She sighed deeply.  Maybe he had done just what he told her he was going to do, find a crew and leave on the fastest ship he could steal.  Maybe his hasty departure had absolutely nothing to do with what she had said last night.  She smiled slightly, of course it didn't.  Why should she think that she had any bearing whatsoever on the actions of the most infamous pirate in the Caribbean?

            Before she could formulate an answer to her own question, Ana ungracefully ran right into a man clad in a long brown robe.  She heard him hiss in pain.

            "Oh, I'm so sorry," she fumbled with her words as she looked up and caught sight of a silver cross hanging around the man's neck.  "I mean. I'm sorry, Father.  I was rushing, and I didn't –"

            "Forgiven, luv."

            "Oh thank y – Jack!"  The hooded rob may have obscured this peculiar priest's face from anyone else on the street, but up close, Ana could not mistake his eyes for those of a man of the cloth.  "What in the hell are you doing?"

            "I believe cursing is a sin, darling, and what I am doing is no concern of yours," he answered cocking his head to one side.

            "You're the priest, ever heard of helping out your fellow man?" Ana said, trying not to worry about the way Sparrow was rubbing his wounded shoulder.

            "Look, luv," he said, gesturing with his free hand, "let me explain, and I'll try and not use any big words here, what I am doing is not your business."

            Ana stiffened.  Try as she might, she could not help but be a little hurt by Sparrow's gruff manner.  He had acted like a gentleman in her home.  Now, something was different.  She said nothing.

            "Now, I'll be on me way.  You'll be on yours, and neither of us need ever bother the other again, savvy?"  

            Ana raised her chin, "fine."

            "Fine."

            Sparrow turned and staggered his way towards the dock, leaving Ana to stare after him.  

            Her lower lip began to quiver almost imperceptibly.  He was a pirate.  That was his life, and he was going back to that life.  Why should she expect him to have any regard for her?  

            "Was that who I think it was?"

            Ana stared up at her brother's confused face.  She nodded.

            "Well, in that case, I suppose I shall go back into the shop and come out again.  So as to pretend I never saw him," Prescott said in a slightly mocking tone.

            "That's not necessary."

            "It's not?"

            "No."

            "Lover's quarrel?"

            "Prescott!"

            "Sorry, but I thought you told me you had found the scallywag with the heart of gold?"

            Ana stared after the robed figure fighting to ignore the ache in her chest, "I was wrong."

Don't forget to review before you go!


	8. Moving On

Disclaimer:  I'm just playing with POTC for a little while, sadly none of the characters from the movie are mine.

A/N:  As ever I have italics and ** for a flashback.  Thank you so so so so much for all of the great feedback.  I'm happy to be able to write a story that you seem to like so much!  Alright, onto chapter eight!

*****

            Anamaria watched in horror as Cornado clubbed Sparrow on the head with his pistol.  The pirate fell to the ground, and the commandant turned to face her.

_            "Don Antonio, was that entirely necessary?" she asked trying to regain her composure after being manhandled by the insane Spaniard._

_            "Necessary!" Cornado repeated, "Señora, that you would presume to know anything about how to handle pirates –"_

_            "I know how to treat another human being!"_

_            Cornado threw his pistol on the ground and grabbed Ana's shoulders so that she could feel his breath on her face as he spoke, "pirates are not human beings.  The things that these creatures do –"_

_            "Don Antonio!" Prescott's voice interrupted the commandant's speech, "unhand my sister or by God I'll not be held accountable for my actions."_

_            The Spaniard let go of Ana's shoulders and she stepped backwards so that she was behind her brother and his pistol.  _

_Prescott's blue eyes were like ice as he glared at Cornado.  "The _Calypso_ is ready to embark.  I thank you, Don Antonio, for your hospitality.  I'm sure our paths will cross again some day, and I would just like to say that if you ever lay a hand on my sister again, I'll see you dead."_

_Prescott holstered his weapon and extended his arm to Ana.  She stared sadly at the pirate's motionless body.  Taking her brother's arm, she said a silent prayer that this pirate would not die at the hands of that swine._

_"Well, what did you say to him this time?" he asked once they were on board._

_Ana shrugged, "I just told him what I thought of him and his methods."_

_Prescott laughed, "oh, is that all?"_

_"Thank you."_

*****

            Ana awoke suddenly from her dream to hear someone pounding on her front door.  As she pulled on a robe, she heard Sarah answering the call.  She tiptoed to the top of the staircase.

            "It's late, sir," her maid was saying.

            "I know, but this is important, savvy?"

            Sparrow?

            Ana heard footsteps coming up the stairs followed closely by her maid's desperate pleas to wait down in the parlor.  She backed away from the door just before the pirate flung it open and entered her room.

            The brown clergy robes that he had worn earlier were gone, replaced by a simple white shirt and black pants.  He was out of breath as though he had ran the entire way from the docks to her house.

            "Anamaria –"

            Without thinking, Ana walked right up to Sparrow and brought her hand across his face with a loud clap.  His head snapped to one side, and he stumbled backward.  He touched his reddening cheek.

            "What was that for?" he asked stretching his jaw.

            Ana placed her hands on her hips, "what was that for?" she repeated, "that my dear Mr. Sparrow was for taking advantage of every good thing I have tried to do for you and then having the audacity to think you are at all welcome in this house!"

            The pirate straightened, "Anamaria – "

            "I am sorry, Mr. Sparrow, but I really am not at all interested in anything you have to say."

            "That so, luv?"

            "You will leave, or I shall alert my brother and he will see to it that you are dealt with," Ana regretted her threat almost as soon as the words left her lips.  It was one thing to want Sparrow out of her house, but it was quite unnecessary to make threats for the sole purpose of hurting the man.

            She expected Sparrow to react with anger, and he surprised her when he simply bowed his head and said, "I'm sorry."

            Ana's heart nearly broke as the note of defeat in his voice reached her ears.  In her head she knew that she should feel nothing, save for disdain, for this pirate.  However, her heart was speaking much louder than her head when it told her to at least hear what Sparrow had to say.

            Her thoughts were interrupted by more commotion downstairs.  Once again, she heard her maid telling someone that Ana could not be disturbed at such a late hour, and like before, she heard footsteps climbing the stairs.

            "What's going on?" she asked Sparrow.

            Before he could answer a Spanish soldier burst into her room.  His eyes darted back and forth between the pirate and the lady.

            "Do not be afraid, m'Lady," he said, "I will take care of this filthy piece of trash."

            The Spaniard grabbed Sparrow roughly by his injured arm and pulled him towards the bedroom door, but then, quicker than lightening, the pirate tugged his arm away from the soldier's grasp and stole the man's pistol.  He stepped away from the Spaniard and aimed the weapon at the other man's chest.  However, before he could fire, the soldier lunged forward, caught Sparrow around the waist, and thrust him against the wall.  The pirate's back connected with the wood and a cry escaped his lips.  The gun fell from his hand and slid across the floor.

            Ana dropped to her knees, and her eyes clamped shut.  The cry was the very same one that had woken her all those months ago on Don Cornado's island.

*****

            _Ana stood in the wet sand.  The warm water lapped against her bare feet.  Yesterday, _HMS Calypso_ had docked in Kingston leaving behind prisons and pirates.  Yesterday, she had once again set foot in the city that she called home.  And, yesterday, she had learned that the very same storm that had left her and Prescott in _la Cerradura_ had also claimed the life of her husband._

_            She stared blankly out at the blue sea.  Christopher had loved the sea in a way that he could never love a woman.  Not even her.  At night, he used to wear a long brown coat and a leather hat, so that no one would recognize him, and he would walk along the beach, alone._

_            He said that the sea, and not Kingston, would always be his home._

_            His lieutenant, a man named Norrington, said that Christopher was thrown overboard while trying to sail the ship through the gale.  In the end, the sea had claimed him.  Maybe now, he was at home and at rest._

_            "He loved you, you know," she heard her brother's voice._

_            "And I loved him," Ana said quietly._

_            Prescott placed his hand on her shoulder, "at least, he died trying to save the lives of his crew.  There is honor in that."_

_            "I suppose there is," she said, "I just . . . I just would have liked to say goodbye."_

_            Ana fought wildly against the tears that were beating against her eyes and trying desperately to fall._

_            Prescott squeezed her shoulder._

_            "I-I miss him."_

_            "Annie, take your time and mourn, but try to remember that life does not end with the death of someone that you love."_

_            "You said the same thing when Findley was killed."_

_            "It was true then and it's true now."_

_            Ana tore her gaze from the sea and stared into her brother's blue eyes._

_            "Annie, Fin and Christopher are gone, but we're still here.  Hard as it may be, you have to live your life, for them and for yourself.  You have to move on."_

*****

            Her brother's words pounded in her ears.  She opened her eyes and saw the soldier holding Sparrow up against the wall.  His dark hand was pressing against Sparrow's wounded shoulder.  

            Then, she saw the pistol.  She saw her hand reach out and pick up the weapon.  She saw Sparrow's eyes widen as she stood up and aimed the gun.

            The room was suddenly filled with a sound louder than thunder.  A cloud of smoke billowed up from the barrel of the pistol and the odor of gunpowder filled her nostrils.

            Time slowed.  She watched as the pirate and the soldier fell to the floor.

Don't hate me for the cliffhanger, I'm just trying to keep you all on your toes!  Please, don't leave without sending me a review and letting me know how I'm doing.


	9. A Decision

Disclaimer:  Just keep rubbing it in.  I still don't own them.

A/N: Well, I left you with a little cliffhanger last time, but I updated pretty quick so I hope that makes up for it!  As ever, I am eternally grateful for all the suggestions and reviews.  

Anamaria saw the gun in her hands begin to shake and slowly realized that her entire body was trembling.  Blood was flowing from a tiny hole in the Spaniard's back.  He was dead, and she had killed him.  Killed him.  She had taken a Spanish soldier's life to save the life of a pirate?  No.  To save the life of a man . . . a man who just happened to be a pirate.

Sarah's screams instantly brought Ana out of her thoughts.

"Sarah!" Ana saw her standing in the doorway with her hands covering her mouth, "stop that."

The maid was instantly silent.  Dropping her hands to her sides, she stared at Ana through wide innocent eyes.

"Sarah, someone will have heard that.  Soldiers will be here any minute now.  I want you to go downstairs and wait for them."

"Yes, mum," she answered automatically.

"Now, Sarah, listen to me carefully, you must tell no one what happened here tonight.  Tell the soldiers that you had no idea anything was amiss tonight until you heard the gunshot, okay?  Then tell them that you rushed up to my bedroom and discovered the Spaniard.  Understand?"

Sarah nodded, "what about you, mum?"

            "You tell the soldiers that you haven't seen me since before I went to sleep.  Say that you've no idea where I am and that you're very worried.  Alright?"

            "You want me to lie?"

            "Yes."

            "What if it's Prescott who comes?"

            Ana swallowed, "even if it's Prescott."

            Sarah nodded.

            "Now, I'm counting on you," Ana said, "I will be in the study upstairs.  Mr. Spa – Smith is injured."

            "In the study upstairs?"

            "Yes."

            "The Captain's study?"

            "Sarah, we both miss Christopher, but he gone and he isn't ever coming back.  Right now I have to see to Mr. Smith.  Are we clear?"

            "Yes, mum."

            Ana watched as her maid slowly descended the stairs.  Sarah was scared, but she would do as she was told.  She had to.  She nodded as if to assure herself that Sarah would not fail, before returning to Sparrow. 

            The pirate was lying beneath the Spanish soldier.  His eyes were closed, but he was not dead.  He could not be dead.

            Grimacing, Ana pulled the Spaniard's lifeless body off of Sparrow.  Ana knelt beside the pirate and placed her dark hands on either side of Sparrow's face.  He was so pale, and his skin felt like fire beneath her fingers.

            "Jack," she said softly, "Jack, come on.  You have to wake up."

            The wound on Sparrow's shoulder was bleeding again.  Ana could only imagine the havoc wreaked on the poor man's back.  Was this pirate doomed to suffer?  Wasn't it enough that the man had been tortured for who knows how long?  It was not right that he would survive Cornado to die in her bedroom.

            Before Ana could further contemplate the bad fortune that seemed to plague the pirate, she heard voices coming from downstairs.  The voices were English.

            "Damn," she said.

            "Priest or not, cursing is still a sin, luv," Sparrow's chided weakly.

            Ana could not help the smile that grabbed hold of her lips and spread over her face at the sound of the pirate's voice, "you're alright."

            "That's debatable," Sparrow said.

            His voice was soft and ragged.  His eyes were tired, but he was alive.

            Ana took hold of the pirate's good arm, "come on, we need to get you out of here."

            Sparrow's kohl-lined eyes fell on the dead Spaniard lying next to him.  He furrowed his brow.  When his gaze returned to Ana's face, something in those dark eyes had changed.  He nodded and allowed Ana to help him to his feet.  Once up, Sparrow placed his arm around Ana's shoulders and the pair moved shakily but quickly to the bedroom door.

            She heard Sarah downstairs telling the soldiers exactly what she had been instructed to say.  Ana breathed a sigh of relief.  This might turn out alright after all.

            "Sarah, where's Annie?" she heard Prescott's voice demand.

            Or it might not.

            "I don't know, Captain Tarret."

            "Where did the shot come from?"

            "Your sister's bedroom, sir."

            Ana felt the pirate's body stiffen.  Her eyes danced nervously around the room, "the balcony," she said as they came to rest on a set of French doors.

            She helped Sparrow across the room and the pair were safely hidden in the shadows on the small balcony just in time.  The pirate sighed as he leaned on the stone wall next to the door.  He rested his head against the wall, closed his eyes and gingerly rubbed his shoulder.

            Peering through the glass, Ana saw Prescott enter the room and look over the body of the Spanish guard.  A few second's later, James Norrington entered the room, followed by a pair of red-coated marines.

            "Prescott, what's happened?" she heard James ask.

            "I don't know."

            "Where's Annie?"

            "I don't know that either," her brother answered his voice raising slightly.

            "The maid saw nothing?"

            "No.  She said she had no idea anything was wrong until she heard the shot."

            Ana saw James' features darken somewhat, "could this be the work of that pirate the Spaniards are after?"

            "It better not be," Prescott answered.

            "What?"

            "Nothing."

            "What would you have us do, sir?" one of the marines asked.

            "Find my sister."

            "Your sister?" Ana heard a hauntingly familiar voice ask.

            Prescott straightened, "Don Antonio."

            Sparrow's eyes sprung open at the mention of that name.  He moved to stand next to Ana, staring into the bedroom.  His face was void of expression, and Ana could only imagine what he saw when he looked at the commandant.  Her own mind was grappling with images of the torn skin on his back.  Momentarily overcome by her emotions, Ana reached out and took hold the pirate's hand.  

            He flinched at her unexpected touch and his dark eyes searched her face.  He still had not given any indication that he remembered her from _la Cerradura._  Understandably, he was puzzled by her gesture, but he made no move to resist her touch.

            Ana let go of his hand and returned her gaze to the men in the bedroom.  The pirate did the same.

            Don Antonio Cornado had just entered, clad in a striking red coat lined with more gold brocade than was commonly thought to be proper.  His graying hair fell loose around his shoulders and his matching gray eyes were just as filled with hate as when he had manhandled Anamaria a year ago.   

            "Did I hear you say that the pirate has done something to your sister?" the Spaniard asked.

            "You did not," Prescott said, "with all due respect, sir.  What are you doing here?"

            "Two of my men spotted Sparrow.  One came to me with the report and the other . . ." Cornado's voice trailed off as he stared down at the dead soldier that lay at their feet.

            "Then, this was Sparrow's doing," Norrington said.

            "Obviously," Cornado agreed.

            Prescott cleared his throat, "well, Don Antonio, your concern is pirates.  Mine is finding my sister."  

            James nodded.  "I'll get some men on it," he said.

            "I think, Capítan Tarret, that our search will lead us to the same destination," Cornado said when they were alone.

            "Perhaps."

            "Do not kid yourself," the Spaniard continued, "we both have seen that your sister does not understand what must be done to pirates."

            Ana felt Sparrow's eyes on her as the commandant spoke, but she stare straight ahead as if the man had said nothing remarkable.  She must tell Sparrow who she was, more specifically, who she was to him.  She had boldly lied to the pirate in the past, but for some reason she wanted him to trust her, to know that she would not give him up to the likes of Don Antonio.  She would never earn the trust of a pirate if she continued to lie to him.

            Prescott did not dignify Cornado's comment with a reply.  He simply ordered that someone take the body from Ana's house and that Sarah accompany him to the fort.  Cornado lingered a moment in Ana's bedroom, but he too, left without discovering her and Sparrow.

            Tentatively, Anamaria opened the glass door and re-entered her room.  Her eyes became fixated on the pool of blood that was all that remained of a man that she had killed.  A man that had rushed into her house and had thought he was helping her.  She had taken the life of a soldier who was only doing his duty.

            In the midst of her thoughts, she felt Sparrow's rough hand on her shoulder.  Inexplicably, his touch sent a shiver down her spine.  "No one's ever done something like that for me before," he said softly.

            Ana turned and slipped her arm beneath his, "they think you've stolen me.  No one will be back here tonight.  Let me help you to bed."

            Sparrow took the support she offered.  He leaned heavily on her as they walked the short distance to her bed.  His eyes were bright with fever and as he seemed to have difficulty focusing.

            He shook his head, "this is your bed."

            "I doubt that I could sleep tonight anyway," she said as she helped him to lay down.  "I'll fetch some of that atrocious drink you seem to like so much so I can redress your wound."

            The pirate nodded weakly.

            "Oh, and Captain?"

            Sparrow turned his head and wearily met her glance.

            "Your welcome."

Please Please don't leave without telling me what you think!  


	10. Confessions

Disclaimer:  Nope, they still aren't mine.

A/N:  I would have to fill this page with "thank you" to adequately express the way I feel.  But then, where would I put the story. . . hmm.  Not such a good idea after all.  Well, anyway, thank you and now onto the chapter.

            Anamaria sat in her dark bedroom and watched the pirate sleep.  His eyes were darting around beneath his closed lids.  He was dreaming.  Ana shivered when she thought of the things that he was probably dreaming about.  Don Cornado's recent arrival had put the same awful thoughts in her own head.  She could not shake the images of Sparrow hanging from his shackled wrists in the prison yard with blood dripping from his wounds, but it would be worse for the pirate.  She saw what Cornado had done to him and the recollections of that brutality had haunted her dreams for countless nights.  But he had felt it.  The pirate captain would have a memory of each time the Spaniard's whip fell against his back.  His would bear the scars of _la Cerradura_ forever, and Ana believed that those scars were emblazoned on his heart as well as in his skin.

            Ana brushed a piece of dark hair away from Sparrow's burning forehead.  She failed to understand how any man could survive a year, or more, at the hands of that monster.  She let her hand trail down to the pirate's left arm.  Her fingers traced the lightning bolt pattern that Cornado's men had burned into Sparrow's flesh.  It was the cruelest scar she had ever seen.

            Ana leaned back in her chair.  The pirate had only reappeared in her life two nights ago.  Since then, she had lied to soldiers, lied to the pirate, harbored a known fugitive, asked her brother to ignore his duty, and . . . killed a man.  Ana swallowed.  She had taken the life of a soldier.  A soldier who was not unlike her brother or Norrington or her husband.  A soldier's duty was to protect.  The Spanish man had rushed bravely into her house to rescue a damsel in distress from an evil pirate.  Instead, the damsel shot him.

            Ana brought her hand to her forehead.  She was getting a headache.  All that she wanted to do was run to Prescott and tell him what had happened.  Prescott was level headed and smart.  He always knew what to do.  But she had killed a soldier, and Prescott was the last person she could turn to.  He may not arrest her immediately.  Doubtless, he could spin a tale that she had been frightened and thought she was aiming at the pirate.  No one at that fort thought a woman could handle a gun anyway.  Yes, Prescott could clear her name, but what would he do to Jack?   Knowing that Sparrow had stayed in his sister's house was one thing, but knowing that the pirate had endangered his sister's life was something altogether different.  Prescott would not understand that Ana was doing what she knew to be right.  He would only see how the pirate had caused this chain events and how much easier things would have been if he would have arrested Jack the first time he laid eyes on him.

            Prescott would be right, of course.  Everything would be simpler right now, if Ana did not have a pirate laying in her bed.  Even now, if she turned Sparrow over to the authorities, she would be considered a local hero.  She would be the woman who outsmarted the legendary Jack Sparrow.  The townspeople would probably throw her a parade and declare the day National Anamaria Defeats Dreadful Pirate Day.  She shook her head and tried not to think about the townspeople.  Her dark skin already set her apart from those people.  She was wealthy and she was Christopher Laffley's widow.  For those reason's alone, the other well to do women in town tolerated her, but they did not accept her.  Imagine what they would think if they knew she had a pirate in her bed.  

            She glanced up at Sparrow.  He was still asleep, but he seemed to be caught up in his dream, a rather unpleasant dream.  Ana rose to her feet.  The man had been through hell the past couple of days to say nothing of the past year of his life.  Should she wake him?  He needed to sleep, but this did not appear to be a restful sleep.

            Ana sighed and placed her hand on Sparrow's scarred forearm.  "Jack," she whispered, "wake up."

            Before Ana knew what was happening, the pirate sat bolt upright in the bed and roughly grabbed hold of her arm.  He stared at her, but he could not see her through the fever and his dream.  Ana felt a stab in her heart as she saw the pain in his deep brown eyes.  For a sick man, Sparrow certainly was strong.

            She frowned.  "Jack, that hurts," she said, unintentionally using his Christian name.

            Finally, Anamaria saw recognition in the pirate's eyes.  He blinked and immediately let go of her arm.  He looked down at his own hand as if it was a foreign object that disgusted him.  "I'm sorry," he said so softly that she barely heard him.

            "It's okay.  I woke you in the middle of –"

            "No excuse."

            Ana sensed a pang in her chest.  There was shame in the pirate's voice.  She was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to comfort Sparrow.  "Really, I'm fine," she said placing her hand on his arm.

            The pirate said nothing.

            "What were you dreaming about?" she asked, trying a different tactic.

            He turned his head and stared out the window.  She could just see the moon reflected in his dark eyes.

            "_La Cerradura."_

            "I can't imagine how awful that must have been," Ana said, recalling the sight of his brutalized back.

            "Wasn't all bad, luv."

            "Really?  Does Don Antonio have a soft side that I don't know about."

            "No."

            Ana shook her head, "then, I don't know a person could live through that place."  

            "When you're living in the dark, the smallest ray of light can get you through," Sparrow said philosophically.  

Ana could not tell if the words were a product of the rum he had consumed while she was bandaging his shoulder or if he was really serious, "what do you mean?"

The pirate shrugged with his good shoulder, "a woman prayed for me."

Ana's eyes nearly leapt from her face as she realized that Sparrow was talking about her.  "A prayer got you through prison?" she said, her voice cracking.

Sparrow turned his intense stare back to her face.  "Aye," he said, "Can't remember what she said, something about courage."

Ana stood up.  She could not breathe.  She had said those words in the prison yard as much for herself as for the pirate.  When she had knelt beside his battered body she believed that he was going to die at Cornado's hand.  That her words had been an anchor for him to cling to was the last thing she ever expected the pirate to say.

"Anamaria?"

"I-I'll be right back," she stammered.  

Once out of the room, Ana nearly ran down the hall.  Sparrow's confession had affected her much more than she was willing to admit to him just yet.  She took a deep breath and entered her husband's study.

Christopher stared down at her from a painting over the fireplace.  When they were first married, Christopher's mother had insisted that they sit for a portrait.  Ana was sitting and Chris stood behind with his hand on the back of her neck.  He would always touch her neck like that and twirl loose tendrils of her hair around his fingers.  

"What am I doing?" she asked her husband's painted face.  Chris had reddish brown hair and gentle brown eyes.  He was smiling in the portrait.  He had a mesmerizing smile as if he knew something that the rest of the world did not.

Ana walked towards the fireplace and kneeled beside the maroon leather chair that her husband used to sit in.  She caressed the worn leather lovingly, "I miss you, Chris," she said, "you would know what to do.  If you were here."

Ana smiled.  Chris would probably laugh and tell her that she had really gotten herself in deep this time.  Then, he would hug her from behind, and rest his chin on her shoulder.  He would kiss her on the neck and tell her to listen to her heart, because a person's heart would never lead them astray.

            "Anamaria?"

            Ana looked up to see Sparrow standing a few feet from her, his head cocked to one side.  Confusion and concern were fighting to take control of his dark eyes.

            "It's called the Captain's Prayer," she said quietly.

            "What?"

            "Courage, Captain, do not stumble though thy path be dark as night.  There is a star to guide thee.  Let the road be dark and dreary and its end far out of sight. Face it bravely, strong or weary. Trust in God, and do the right."

            The pirate knitted his brow, "it was you."

That's all for now.  Please, don't forget to leave me a review.  I live for feedback.


	11. Alone Again

Disclaimer:  POTC does not belong to me.  So sad.

A/N:  Thank you so very much for letting me know how you like my story.  The reviews are wonderful and I'm so happy that so many people like what I'm doing.

Okay, now Chapter 11.            

The pirate knitted his brow.  "It was you," he said, his words sounding more like an accusation than a question.

            Ana rose from where she sat on the ground.  "It was," she answered keeping her eyes on the floor.

            "You might have mentioned that."

            There was an edge in the pirate's voice.  He was angry, but trying not to show it.  He was failing.  Anamaria did not know what to say, so she said nothing.

            "Well," Sparrow prompted.

            Ana could feel a hundred stories coming into her head.  There were countless reasons that she could hide behind, but she had lied to the pirate once already.  She brought her hand to her chest.  She had never imagined that weaving a tale for a pirate and being on the receiving end of his disappointment would hurt so much.  "I was . . . I was afraid that you wouldn't remember me, or . . . or that you wouldn't want to remember me."

            The silence in the room was swirling around her ears and threatening to smother her.  She could feel the heat rising to her face.  Her heart was trying to cry, but her mind was bottling the tears and telling her heart that she be damned if this pirate saw her weakness.  Ana clenched her fists at her sides and closed her eyes.

            When he finally did speak, the pirate's voice sounded very far away despite the fact that he stood mere feet from Ana.  "The memory of that woman, of you, made the horror of that place livable."

            Tentatively, Ana looked up at Sparrow.  Her eyes met his.  She searched those deep dark pools in an attempt to decipher what he was feeling.  However, instead of sadness or anger, she saw nothing.  Ana briefly marveled at the pirate's ability to so mask his emotions.  She knew how that Spaniard had hurt Sparrow   To look utterly void of all feeling while recalling that torture, Sparrow must have learned a very long time ago to never show his inner turmoil.

            "You should have told me."

            His voice was flat, and Ana knew that he was saying goodbye.  She raised her chin.

            Sparrow did not say another word.  He turned and silently left the study.  She could not hear his footsteps on the wooden hallway floor, but she could almost feel when he was gone.  

            Ana wrapped her slender fingers around the neck of the vase sitting next to her husband's chair.  In one fluid motion, she threw the vase as hard as she could towards the fireplace.  The crash of breaking glass reverberated through the study as the thousands of tiny shards fell to the floor.  Her mind had run out of bottles for her tears and her heart was winning.  She covered her face with her hands and wept uncontrollably for what seemed like an eternity even though only a few minutes passed.

            Her lip quivering, Ana gazed up again at her husband's portrait.  "So much for that," she said aloud, "guess it's just you and me again."

            "Señora, do not despair.  You are not alone."

            Ana's brown eyes widened, and every hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

            "Don Antonio," she said as she turned to face the one man in this world that she hated with all of the fires of hell.

            He stood leaning casually against the door frame.  He was smiling, but that smile did not reach his cold gray eyes.

            "Tell me, what would your husband think of his wife taking a worthless pirate to bed?" the Spaniard questioned as he stepped closer, the malevolent smile still plastered across his face.

            "I take offense, Don Antonio.  What do you mean by coming into my house and saying such things?"  Ana hoped against hope, that the Spaniard had just haphazardly wandered into her home and was trying to intimidate her.  It was possible, that he knew nothing about her harboring Sparrow.  Of course, it was also possible that Sarah had broken down at the fort and told the commandant the whole story.

            "Please, stop with this charade," the Spaniard said with mock civility, "although you are quite the actress, I've just come from your bedroom."

            "And?"

            "And, dear lady, there is blood on the sheets.  Are you injured?"

            Ana set her jaw, determined not to respond to the filthy Spaniard's allegation.  She could not help the feelings of desperation that were fighting to take control.  She was caught.  It meant nothing that she had not actually spent the night in bed with the pirate.  Don Antonio could prove that Sparrow had been here.  With proof like this, he could easily scare Sarah into confessing everything else about the pirate's visit.  He was almost scaring Ana into confessing everything.  

            "You do not have to answer," he continued shrugging, "I'm sure you can wait and answer these questions when Capitán Norrington or your brother ask them.  Aiding and abetting, I believe is what they call all of this in your language."

            Ana pursed her lips.  At least, Don Antonio did not realize that Prescott had anything to do with hiding the pirate.  She found small relief in that.  However, the commandant was threatening to turn her in.  Prescott might not be able to keep her out of trouble if the charges were brought against her by someone with as much "prestige" as Don Antonio.  The conniving Spaniard could probably buy her conviction.  Ana was beginning to worry, but she was not going to let this swine see that he was getting to her.

            "Imagine what it will do to your brother's career, not to mention his reputation, when his precious little sister is hung for treason."

            "Treason!?" She spat the word.

            "Yes, Señora, that is what the law calls it when you help an enemy of your King."

            Ana's heart was hammering so hard against her chest that she was worried it would break through her ribs.  Her throat constricted.  Don Antonio was right.  A court would certainly find her guilty of treason, especially due to the feeling the locals had towards pirates.  

            Shaking her head, Ana banished all thoughts of the noose in the town square.  She was not the only one who had something to hide from the townspeople.

            "I wonder, Don Antonio, what would people think if they were ever told what kind of a man you really are?"

            The Spaniard's visage darkened, "what are you talking about?"

            "Well, perhaps the way you run your prison is acceptable in Spain, but the Englishmen, who's hospitality you are now enjoying, would not tolerate your disregard for human life."

            "You would not dare!" the Spaniard shouted.

            Ana let a smirk slowly spread across her face, not because she was pleased with her inscrutable behavior, but because the tables were starting to turn.  "Wouldn't I?  I happen to know Vice Admiral Fornin.  I could just pay him a visit tomorrow and tell him a story about a little island I visited last year.  I'm fairly certain that he would be just as disgusted with your brutality as I was.  Then, he would send you and your men on their way and you would be forced to go to Spain without Jack Sparrow.  What would their Excellencies think of that?"

            Don Cornado was furious.  Ana could almost see the steam rising off of his reddening face.

            "I do not think your King would allow you to remain at _la Cerradura_ if you cannot keep track of one stupid pirate."

            Cornado grabbed hold of Ana's shoulders, "you dare to threaten me?"

            Ana pulled herself free from his claws, "that is not a threat, you monster.  It is a promise."

            The Spaniard pulled himself up to his full height and regained some of his composure.  He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, "one thing I have learned from pirates, Señora, is that the dead tell no tales."

            Anamaria gasped as the commandant drew his sword.

            "My dear woman, everyone at the fort already thinks that the pirate has kidnapped you.  Who do you think they will blame when they find your body?"  Cornado laughed.

            Ana backed away.  "Your insane."

            The Spaniard laughed even harder, "perhaps but you are not going to be around to tell anyone."

            Ana's eyes widened as she backed into the wall.  She was trapped.  She was going to die.

            Cornado's strode across the room and plunged his blade into Ana's stomach.  White lights exploded in front of Ana's eyes and the searing pain forced the air from her lungs.  Don Antonio stood mere inched from her face and stared into her frightened eyes, "make your peace with God, Señora," he whispered.  Slowly he pulled his sword from Ana's flesh.  She dropped to her knees, clutching her wound.  She felt her own warm blood.

            The Spaniard re-sheathed his sword and left the study chuckling to himself.

            Alone, Anamaria crumpled to the floor.

That's it for now.  I do love a good cliffhanger and I hope you don't mind too much :)  Don't forget to drop me a review.  I really want to know how you think I'm doing with this little story.


	12. Death and Life

Disclaimer:  Still haven't found a way to become the head of Disney.  So, POTC still isn't mine.

A/N:  Okay, I thought I'd write the next chapter as quick as possible, since I really left you all hanging at a sad spot last time.  Hope you don't mind!      

All at once a bright light flooded the room and Ana was no longer laying in her husband's study.  Instead, she was on a beach.  There was something eerily unnatural about this beach.  She could not hear any signs of civilization, nor any gulls calling to one another in the sky.  She brought her hand away from her wound, to find that her dress was free of blood and that she no longer felt any pain.

            She turned around in a circle.  There was not another person for miles, and the palm lined beach seemed to stretch out all the way to the horizon.  She shook her head and closed her eyes.  However, when she opened them she was still standing on the beach.  

            Ana almost laughed.  This was not what she had expected heaven, or hell for that matter, to look like.

            "That's because you're not in heaven or hell."

            Spinning around, Ana sought the voice.  Her jaw dropped as she came face to face with her brother, Findley.  He was sitting on a log and smiling up at her.  His midshipman's uniform was cleaner than Ana had ever seen it and his unruly blonde hair was fluttering around his face.  He had the same tender blue eyes as Prescott.  He looked as though he had not aged at all since he . . . died.

            "That's because I haven't," he said.

            Ana could feel tears starting to well up in her eyes.  She had only been twelve when Findley was killed.  He was fifteen and a midshipman on the _HMS Jupiter._  Prescott, five years his senior, was the second lieutenant on the same ship.  Findley died in his older brother's arms after a battle when a piece of the mast splintered after being hit by a cannonball.  He was buried at sea and when Prescott returned, he gave her the silver cross that she had given Findley.  She had given one to each of her brothers, saying that it would protect them and bring them luck.

            "Yes, Annie, I remember.  Must we dwell on that?"

            "How do you know what I'm thinking?"

            "Ah, she speaks at last," Findley rose to his feet and clapped his hands.  

            He may still look fifteen, but his voice sounded older somehow.

            "Of course it does.  I'm still your big brother," he crossed his arms in front of his chest, "let's see.  I'd be what?  25, now?"

            Ana nodded, as she tried to remind herself to breathe.  "You said that I'm not in heaven."

            "That's right."

            "Or hell?"

            Findley laughed, "nope."

            Ana gestured at their surroundings.  "Then, where am I?"

            Her brother leaned in close, "you're in your house bleeding to death."

            Ana gazed into her brother's eyes and could see her own body lying on the floor in the study.  "I am?"

            "Yeah."

            "Is this purgatory?"

            Findley shook his head, "no, ma'am."

            "Then, what is it?"

            "A second chance."

            "What?"

            "Annie, I know that madman didn't cut off your ears.  You heard me."

            Ana brought both hands to her head.  She rubbed her temples in an effort to explain what was happening to her.  She could not fathom how she was lying in the study and standing on the beach talking to her brother, who had been dead for almost ten years.

            "It's not gonna make any sense, no matter what you do."

            "Stop that, Fin."

            Laughing, Findley spread his hands out defensively.

            Ana's eyes narrowed, "Are you real?"

            He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders, "I'm real, Annie."  His hands were warm and soft, and his blue eyes conveyed all of the kindness that he had always held in his heart.

            Against her will, Ana broke down and pulled her brother into a firm embrace.  She buried her face in his soft hair and breathed in his scent.  He had always smelled like soap, made from rose petals, that her mother used to make them bathe with.

            "Come on, Annie, that's embarrassing."

            Pulling back, Ana laughed heartily.  "Sorry, but you do."

            Findley smiled sadly and Ana stopped laughing.  His eyes had suddenly turned serious.  "I'm sorry, Annie, but you can't stay here."

            She swallowed.  Ever since she had cried herself to sleep the night that she found out her brother had died, all she wanted in the world was to see him again.  She wanted to say that she loved him and how proud she was of him.  Now, he stood right in front of her, and she still had not said any of those things.

"You don't have to.  I always knew that you loved me."

"Can't I stay with you?"

            Her brother raised his eyebrow.  "You could, but we both know that you don't really want to."

            _"Anamaria!?"  _

            She heard a voice that did not belong to her brother.

            "I have to go back," she whispered bowing her head.

            _"Wake up, Anamaria."_

            "You'll be fine, Annie," Findley assured her.

            _"Come on.  Don't do this."_

"I miss you, Fin," she said softly.

            "I know."

            _"Please, wake up."_

Ana felt something wet on her face.  She wiped her cheek with her hand and saw a dark liquid on her fingers.  "What's that?"

            Findley nudged her chin with his hand, so that she was looking into his blue eyes.  "Someone is crying for you."

            _"God, let her be okay."_

Findley smiled broadly, "sorry, sis.  Now, he's going over my head."

            All at once, Ana felt herself falling.  The bright sunlit beach disappeared, and she was surrounded by darkness.  She felt warmth against her chest and something was tickling her face.  A pain like she had never felt was exploding from her stomach and coursing through her entire body.  She tried to open her eyes, but the darkness was tugging on her heavy lids.

            "I'm sorry, Anamaria.  I'm so sorry."

            The air was musky and smelled of salt and the spiced liquid that she had used to clean Sparrow's wound.  Again she struggled to open her eyes.  This time they fluttered open weakly.  

            A man was holding her tightly against his body.  She could feel pressure against the wound on her stomach and his skin against her face.

            She smiled in spite of the pain.  "Jack?"

I hope that ending was a bit less cruel than the last one!  Don't leave without letting me know what you think.


	13. Recovery

Disclaimer:  I'm just borrowing POTC.

A/N:  I am continually overwhelmed by the positive response to my story.  I'm so happy you all like it so much.  Your great reviews never fail to get me excited to write the next chapter.  Speaking of the next chapter . . . here it is!         

"Jack?" Ana said.

            The pirate pulled away just far enough so that Ana could see his dark eyes.  The kohl lining his lower lids was smudged and his cheeks were wet.  The incomparable Jack Sparrow had cried . . . for her.

            "Anamaria?"

            His voice was like velvet on her ears as he said her name.  No one had ever called her by her full name.  Her parents and her brothers always called her Annie, and her husband had called her Maria.

            "Listen to me, Anamaria," the pirate's hand was on her face.  Despite the calluses, his touch was like silk.  "Who did this to you?"

            Ana raised her fingers to the pirate's face and wiped away all that remained of the tears he had shed for her.  "Were you crying?" she asked, as though she were oblivious to his question.

            "You aren't listening to me, luv."

            Ana's eyes fluttered.  "I'm tired," she said as her vision started to blur.

            "No.  Come on, darling, stay with me."

            "I-I don't –"  Black spots were starting to form in front of Ana's eyes.  She could not see the pirate, anymore.  Her eyelids were so heavy.  "Jack?" she said again, before finally letting the darkness claim her.

///////////////////

            The sky was dark, when Ana woke up.  She opened her eyes slowly, at first.  The moonlight was cascading down and covering her in a blanket of shimmering white light.  She sat up very slowly, at first.  The shooting pain in her stomach was gone, replaced by a constant ache.  She was supremely uncomfortable, but she could feel that the worst had past.  

            Glancing around the room, Ana's eyes suddenly shot open.  She was not in her house.  She was not in a building at all.  She was in a cave.  The light from the moon was pouring in from the cave's mouth, behind her.  A fire was dying beside her.  A cave.  There were easily hundreds of small caves on Jamaica.  She had been told that there was one on the edge of her own property, but the events of the last few days had prevented her from looking for aforementioned cave.  She had no idea where she was, or what time it was.

She had been lying near the fire, wrapped in a blanket that she recognized as her own.  Her bloodied dress was on the ground on the other side of the fire.  She immediately became aware of what she was wearing, or rather, almost wearing.  The front of her corset had been sliced open!

Ana had never had her clothes cut from her body before, but she felt that it would certainly be an occurrence that she would remember.  The problem she was facing was that she could not remember anything at all.  She rubbed her temples.  She remembered Cornado, and that he had tried to kill her.  She had seen Findley, and then she remembered waking up in the arms of a pirate.

Jack Sparrow.  His name ran through her head as she fingered her mutilated corset.  He must have had something to do with this.  Ana shook her head, still trying to muddle through her thoughts.  Yes, the pirate definitely was the last thing she remembered.  What she did not know was if he had helped her or  . . .  Ana looked at her discarded dress . . . or if he had done something . . . else.

Shakily, Ana got to her feet while at the same time trying to hold her dress together.  Her stomach throbbed in protest, but she ignored the pain.  She needed to figure out what was going on.  Cautiously, she walked towards the cave entrance, taking care not to further aggravate her wound.

She stopped in her tracks as she approached the mouth of the cave and heard footsteps.  "Leaving already, luv?"

She tried desperately to hide behind the remnants of her corset and underskirts, very aware of her inappropriate appearance and the way the pirate was looking at her.

"Where were you?" she asked, hoping to focus the man's attention elsewhere.

"Market," he answered, holding up a sack filled with bread and apples.

She arched an eyebrow.  "You are still wanted by the authorities, correct?"

"Aye."  The pirate furrowed his brow.

"And you just go waltzing into a crowded market to buy some fruit?"

            The pirate smiled, revealing his shiny gold teeth.  "These things were donated."

            "Donated?  To the 'Save Your Local Pirate' fund?"

            Sparrow's black eyes sparkled.  He held up his other hand, which held a familiar long brown robe, "to the church?"

            Ana sighed.  "It boggles my mind that anyone would mistake you for a member of the clergy."

            The pirate bowed gallantly as though her comment was a compliment.

            "Maybe you should take up acting," she suggested.

            He walked past her and sat down by the fire, "not a chance, luv."

            "No?"

            "Unsavory people, actors."

            Ana carefully eased her aching body down next to the pirate.  She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders in an attempt to appear more properly covered.  "Speaking of unsavory," she started, "I can't quite remember, but I think you saved my life.  So I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

            "Bout what, luv?"

            "Well, I'm clearly not dressed at all the same as I was earlier this evening."

            "Yesterday evening."

            "What?"

            "You slept through this evening."

            "Fine, but you didn't answer my question."

            "What are you asking me?"

            The crackling fire reflected in the pirate's eyes.  He knew precisely what she was asking, and he looked almost hurt that she would ask it.  "Why is my dress over there and not right here," she said gesturing in front of her body.

            "Are you implying that I – "

            "I'm not implying anything.  I don't remember."

            A Cheshire cat smile spread across Sparrow's face.  "If I had done what your insinuating, believe me, luv.  You would remember."

            Ana pursed her lips and promptly wiped the grin from Sparrow's face with the palm of her hand.  The pirate touched his cheek and regarded her curiously.  Ana crossed her arms in a manner to indicate that she still expected some sort of explanation for the condition of her dress.

            "I stitched you up, luv.  Nothing more, you have my word," he said spreading his hands.

            "And what will I do with the word of a pirate?" she asked, smiling to soften her seemingly harsh words.

            "Whatever you want, darling.  Just don't hit me with it."

            Ana laughed.

            "Where are we?"

            "Bump on the head too?  We're in a cave."

            "I have no desire to slap you again, but – "

            "We're actually in your own backyard."

            Ana smiled.  Her new home appeared to be the perfect place to harbor fugitives.  

            "Are you ever gonna tell me what happened?" Jack's voice interrupted her whimsical thoughts.

            Sighing Ana faced the pirate.  He was staring into the fire, with a scowl hovering over his handsome face.  "It was Cornado."  Ana did not know if Sparrow wanted her to elaborate, so she waited trying to gauge his reaction.  She saw his jaw clench and unclench, but aside from the tiny movement in his face, he completely hid his emotions.  "He threatened to turn me in for hiding you in my house.  I got angry and threatened to tell Admiralty what kind of a man Cornado really is.  Then, he got angry and, well . . . I guess you know the rest."

            Ana watched Sparrow's face, but he still said nothing.  "Why did you come back?" she asked, finally.

            The pirate turned from the fire and fixed his eyes on Ana.  His face was no longer the mask that she had seen earlier.  His dark eyes were fathomless and for a split second Ana could see the all of the doubt, shame, sadness and pain that he was feeling.  "I'm sorry this happened to you," he said softly.  

            "It isn't your fault," she said in a voice that almost pleaded for Sparrow not to blame himself.

            "Yes, it is," he said.  Once again, his face was unreadable.

            All her life, she had heard stories that romanticized the lives of pirates.  They were made to seem like gods among men.  Alongside those stories were the views of the proper people in town.  Pirates were evil beings that needed to be destroyed.  Jack Sparrow was neither, or both.  

Ana shivered involuntarily.

            "Something wrong?" 

            "I'm cold.  In case you haven't noticed, I'm not wearing a whole lot."

            "Oh, I've noticed, luv." 

            "I have warned you already that I have no qualms about slapping some manners into you."

            The pirate smiled.  "I could go up to your house and get a dress for you?"

"You wouldn't mind?"

He shook his head.

"Thank you, Mr. Sparrow."

"Jack."

            "What?"

            "Call me Jack."

That's it for now!  Don't forget to review.


	14. Capture

Disclaimer:  Must I keep saying it?  I do not own anyone from POTC.

A/N:  I definitely must keep saying thank you.  Your reviews never fail to inspire me to write more.  So, keep them coming and I shall keep writing.  Okay, now, onto Chapter 14 

Ana threw the core of an apple into the fire and watched as the edges twisted and blackened.  She had eaten four apples.  She got up from where she sat on the cave floor and wandered towards the entrance.  She had done this six times already.  Jack really should have returned by now.  She paced in front of the cave's mouth, for the tenth time.  He was only going up to her house to get something for her to wear.  She left the cave and stared up at her house.  It was a short walk.  Jack knew which room was hers.  Finding a dress should not be taking this long.

Chewing on her lower lip, Ana went a few steps towards her house.  He had told her to stay put, but what if something had happened.  Ana walked on towards her house.  He had been feverish in her bed less than two nights ago.  She should have let him rest.  What if he was sick or hurt or . . .   Ana quickened her pace, despite the pain in her stomach.  She should have let him sleep.  He had saved her life.  She never should have let him go.  They had been relatively safe in the cave.  By sending him back to her house, she was putting his life in danger.  If something happened to him because of her . . . no.  She was not going to think about that.  Jack was fine.  He was probably just searching her kitchen for rum.  He had to be okay.  Or maybe he did not know what dress to bring.  Of course, that was it.  Jack was fine.

Jack.  Ana smiled inwardly as she climbed the stone steps leading to her back door.  The illustrious Captain Jack Sparrow had told her to call him Jack.  Ana rolled her eyes.  She was being silly.  Why on earth did this pirate have such an effect on her?  He was able to turn her mind to mush in mere seconds.  If he stayed away for more than few minutes, then she was overcome with worry.  Why?  How was he different than anyone else in this world?  Call him Jack.  Well, of course she could call him Jack.  That was his name, after all.

Pulling open the back door, Ana entered her house.  She stood still as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light.  She could not hear anything.  Jack was probably just being really careful.  He would not want to alert anyone by making a lot of noise.  Right?

"Jack?" she whispered.

"Señora?"

Ana's blood ran cold.  Jack did not have a Spanish accent.  Slowly, she turned to face the voice.  "Miguel?" she said, her own voice betraying her relief.

"Who is Jack?" the Spanish captain asked, stepping into the moonlight.  

Ana searched his eyes.  They were dark, like the pirate's.  They were taking in her disheveled appearance.  She had no reason to trust this man.  She had only met him yesterday . . . no, two days ago at the harbor.  He had not been outwardly hateful towards pirates, but that did not mean he was sympathetic either.  He was still Don Cornado's son, and as much as she wanted to, she could not bring herself to trust him.  "Jack?  I don't know?  What are you talking about?" she asked hoping to sidestep his inquiry altogether.

"Where have you been?  Everyone at the fort thinks you're dead."

Ana's eyes widened.  "Even my brother?"

"Who?"

Ana shook her head, "Captain Tarret, he's my brother."

Miguel nodded.  "Everyone."

"Why?"

"Some of my father's soldiers found blood upstairs in the study.  They assumed that pirate had –"  He stopped talking mid sentence.  His eyes narrowed.  "Jack Sparrow.  You were expecting to find him in this house, not me."

Ana raised her eyebrow.  She nearly opened her mouth to yell at Miguel.  To tell this Spaniard just what she thought of what he was implying, but something in the way he spoke told her to remain silent.

"You won't find him here."

"No?"

"No.  He has been arrested."

"What!" Ana responded reflexively.  She had not meant to display any emotion in front of Captain Cornado.  She did not know how he would react if he knew that she cared for Sparrow.  Wait.  Cared for Sparrow?  Did she really care about a pirate?

"My father's men have been stationed in your house since the blood was found, in case the pirate returned."

Ana felt as though her heart had skipped a beat.  Spanish soldiers had been in her house.  Jack would not have gone back inside if she had not asked him to.  This was entirely her fault.  She was responsible for sending him back to Don Antonio.  It did not matter if she cared for Jack or not.  Either way, whatever happened to him now was on her head.

She blinked a few times, trying in vain to shake the images of _la Cerradura_ that were assaulting her mind.  She swore that she could smell Jack's burning flesh and hear his ragged breath as he struggled against the pain.  She brought her hand to her head.  The room seemed to be spinning.  She swayed on her feet.

Suddenly, Captain Cornado was at her side.  He wrapped his arm around her waist and unintentionally touched her wounded stomach.  Ana gasped, in spite of herself.  She looked into Miguel's concerned eyes.

"Señora, what happened to you?"

Ana pulled away from the Spaniard.  He seemed to care, but as soon as he found out where she had been and who she had been with, what would stop him from alerting his father?

"It's nothing," she said.

            He grabbed her wrist, halting her retreat.  "It is not nothing."

Ana pulled back her free hand and slapped the Spanish captain as hard as she could across his face.  He let go of her wrist and looked at her, his black eyes full of surprise and . . . and what?  He almost looked impressed.  Ana squared her jaw, daring him to speak.

"Sparrow is being held at the fort for now, not on my father's ship.  Capitán Tarret insisted.  They will be leaving for Spain tomorrow afternoon."

"Why are you telling me this?" Ana asked.

"Because you do not have much time," he answered.

"Time for what?"

"Señora, I know what happed to Sparrow while he was in _la Cerradura._"

"You mean what was done to him."  Ana knew that she should not be allowing her feelings to show, but when she thought of Jack's battered body, she could not hide her fury.  The pain that he lived through was unthinkable.

"Sí, what was done to him," Miguel corrected himself, "Señora, I do not like it anymore than you, and I have no wish to see it continue."

Ana searched the man's face.  He appeared to be sincere.  "Then, I ask you again, Captain Cornado.  Time for what?"

"To break him out."

That's all for now.  I know there wasn't any Jack, but fear not, he'll return soon.  Don't forget to review before you go!


	15. A Plan and A Twist

Disclaimer:  Nope, still don't own Jack, Ana, or even Norrington.  Darn.

A/N:  Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews.  Sorry, I took a bit longer to update than I have been, but this chapter is definitely longer than the last few have been.   I hope that makes up for the delay.

"What makes you think I have any intention of breaking Jack Sparrow out of prison?"  Anamaria still could not believe what Miguel had just said.  He was Don Antonio Cornado's son.  His father had beaten Jack within an inch of his life only to patch the pirate up and start all over again.  His father hated pirates.  His father hated Jack.  How could Cornado's son, his own flesh and blood, be so drastically different?

"Am I mistaken?"  Miguel asked.  A slight smile crossed his lips and his black eyes were almost playful.  

He really did not look at all like his father.  If it were not for the scar that ran the length of his face, the Spanish captain probably would have been very handsome.  Ana did not imagine than Don Antonio had ever been handsome. 

"I do not wish to see any man suffer," Ana answered being deliberately vague.  She wanted to trust Miguel.  He had given her no reason not to trust him, but Ana was still wary of the man.  She could not see any benefit for the Spaniard if he helped her get Jack out of prison.  Instead, he would be charged with criminal actions and most likely have to face the wrath of his Don Cornado.  Why would he voluntarily risk these things, for a pirate?

"You do not trust me, Señora."

"Should I?" Ana asked, defiantly, "Miguel, I do not wish to be impolite, but what reason do I have to trust you?  You're in the Spanish Navy.  Your father wants nothing more than to see Jack Sparrow suffer."

            "I am not like him."  Miguel's visage darkened at the mention of Don Antonio.

            "I have seen that," Ana said, wondering what sort of relationship a man like Cornado could have with his son, "but he is your father.  How will he react if he finds out that you've broken the law to free a pirate from prison?"

If Don Antonio finds out what I have done, I think he will react very differently than you anticipate."  The Spaniard smiled as he spoke.  It was a smile that Ana recognized.  It was the same smile that her husband wore in their portrait in the study.  The smile that said he knew something that the rest of the world did not.

Anamaria raised an eyebrow.  "What are you not telling me, Miguel?"

Something flickered across the captain's face but was gone again before Ana could be sure of what she saw.  

"I keep nothing from you," Miguel said, "I promise."

"What use do I have for the promises of the Spanish Navy?"

"I do not give you the promise of my country.  I give you my promise."

Miguel stared into Ana's eyes as she fought her inner battle.  As usual, her head told her to be suspicious of the Spaniard and his motives.  Her only experience with the Spanish military had been at _la Cerradura._  Needless to say, she had formed a rather negative opinion based on what she had seen at the prison.  She had watched Cornado's men blindly follow his orders and torture Jack.  Never once was his brutality questioned.  On the other hand, her heart screamed that Jack was now in the fort but would be sailing to Spain by midday tomorrow.  If she did not act, she may never see the intrepid captain again.  She shook her head.  No matter how hard she tried to fight her feelings, she did care for Jack.  In the split second that he had let her see past the mask he usually wore to cover his emotions, she had seen so much more than a pirate.  She could not just stand idle and watch that monster drag Jack to Spain to endure more cruelty.  She was responsible for his capture in the first place.  If he had not gone to her house to find her a dress, then he would be safe now.  She had to do something.

"How do you know we could even get him out?  It's a fort, you know, Captain.  There will be guards."

"Your friend Capitán Norrington has told the guards at the prison that I am Don Cornado's son.  He has told them that I am responsible for seeing that Sparrow is successfully conveyed to Spain.  They will let me into the hold.  I will let you in."

"James Norrington has been in the Navy since he was a boy.  He does everything according to protocol.  He will not let just anyone in and out of the hold, no offense."

"None taken.  Under the normal circumstances, I would agree with you.  For the past few days, he has been most unwilling to let me out of his sight.  However, he does not much care for me or my views concerning pirates.  He tires of spending time discussing the morality of condemning a man based solely on that man's chosen occupation.  I think, he will decline accompanying me to the hold if only to be rid of me."

Ana remembered how uncomfortable James had been that morning at the harbor, when she had first met Miguel.  He was clearly opposed to the Spaniard's thoughts regarding pirates.

"Alright, so James will let you enter the hold because he does not wish to spend time with you.  How am I to get in?  You said yourself that everyone there thinks I am dead.  If I am seen, then . . ."  Ana imagined the chaos that could ensue.  "Certainly, someone will alert, Prescott."

"Your brother?"

"Yes."

"Then, go yourself to your brother.  You should tell him what has happened to you, since you are unwilling to tell me."

Tell Prescott what happened.  Ana could hear in her head how that conversation would go.  _Yes, Prescott, I know that you thought I was dead, but that's preposterous.  Don Cornado merely stabbed me in the study and left me bleeding.  No big deal.  Oh, and did I mention, Jack cut my dress in half?_  No, telling Prescott was not a good idea.  Her brother would point out that none of this ever would have happened if she had not decided to hide Jack in her house.  She would, of course, tell him not to blame Jack.  She would say that Jack found her wounded and actually saved her life.  However, this news would not make Prescott happy.  Instead, he would be furious.  He would say that her life would not have been in danger in the first place if not for Jack Sparrow.

"Don Cornado stabbed me."

"Why?"

"Because, I threatened to tell Admiralty what he had done to Jack at _la Cerradura._"

Miguel nodded.  "He would kill a woman to save himself."  The Spaniard's voice was flat.  He did not seem at all affected by Ana's admission.  Almost as though he had expected her to say that Cornado had been the one who hurt her.  "You should go to your brother.  Assure him that you are alright.  If he asks what happened –"

"He will ask," Ana interrupted.

"Then, when he asks, you will lie."  Miguel was not looking at Ana anymore.  He was gazing out the window and his fingers were tracing the scar on his cheek.  "You could always tell him that the pirate kidnapped you.  Everyone already thinks that, anyway," he continued, "on your way out of the fort, stop at the hold.  I will see that you get inside.  There is another door on the opposite side of the hold.  It is barred from the outside and locked, of course."  Miguel dug into his pocket and pulled out a key.  "I will make sure the door is open.  Sparrow is a very clever pirate.  He will be able to get you the rest of the way."    

"Why not come with me?"

"Where?"

"To see Prescott.  You could say that you rescued me."

"No."

Ana's eyes narrowed.  Miguel was definitely keeping something from her.  "If Jack Sparrow does not get to Spain, your father will be relieved of his position at _la Cerradura._"

"Probably."  He still did not look Ana in the eye.

"Why do you want him to fail?"

"You know what kind of a man he is."

Ana searched the Spaniard's stony expression.  Suddenly, understanding dawned in her own eyes.  "Miguel," she started, "what happened to your face?"

He looked at Ana then down at the floor.  "You should get dressed," he said, "we do not have much time."

Less than twenty minutes later, Ana stood in one of the corridors at the fort.  She was in front of the office her brother was occupying.  Miguel had ridden with her in the carriage from her house.  He had not said a word regarding the scar on his face.  The silence was unnerving.  His eyes had been haunted when she asked about that scar.  For some reason, she was certain Don Cornado had been behind the blade that disfigured Miguel's face.  The man's callousness seemed to have no bounds.

Miguel had disappeared as soon as she entered the fort.  Most of the men were unable to hide their shocked expressions as she asked where to find Prescott, like they were seeing a ghost.  

She had never been so scared to see her own brother.  She had never lied to him, like she was about to.  But, she had to free Jack.  She could not be responsible for causing him more pain.  Ana knocked on the door.

"Come."

Prescott was sitting behind a desk writing a letter.  He did not look up as Ana entered the office.  Much to her dismay, Don Cornado sat in one of the chairs opposite her brother.  "Prescott?"

"Annie!"  His eyes were wide with concern as he rushed to her side.  Cornado rose to his feet.  Clearly, he was unhappy to see her . . . alive.  His anger was almost palpable.  "Annie, where have you been?"  Prescott asked.

She sighed.  "You were right about Sparrow.  He kidnapped me."  She heard her voice, but the words sounded like someone else.  The Spanish commandant had to know that she was lying, but he would not challenge her story.  To do so would incriminate himself.  Prescott wrapped his arms around her shoulders.  He was telling her not to worry, that Sparrow had been arrested and would be out of her life by tomorrow afternoon.  Her brother loved her so much, and she wanted desperately to tell him the truth.  She had to tell him, but not now.  She had to wait until she knew Jack was safe.  Then, she could tell her brother the real story.  He would be angry with her, but he would understand.  At least, she hoped he would understand.

"I am glad to see you safe, Señora," Cornado said tersely.

She smiled coldly at the Spaniard.

            Prescott glared in Cornado's direction.  "Don Antonio, I do not wish to place blame, but how can I rely on the competence of your men after this?  They gave my sister up for dead, when she obviously needed their aid."

            Cornado pursed his lips.  "I will find out where the blame lies, Capitán Tarret."  The Spaniard nodded curtly and left the siblings alone.

"Where did Sparrow take you?  How did you get away?" Prescott asked.

Ana thought of Miguel.  The man deserved some recognition for his good heart.  She thought of Don Antonio and his maliciousness.  Miguel was helping her because he knew it was the right course of action.  He expected nothing in return, and he was willing to face Cornado's anger.  "Captain Cornado found me."

Prescott stepped back from Ana.  "Who?"

"Don Antonio's son."

"What are you talking about?  Don Antonio does not have a son."

Okay, I know Jack still hasn't reappeared, and I left you hanging with this chapter, but you still want to review right?


	16. Action

Disclaimer:  That fabulous film and those amazing characters that you recognize are still not mine.

A/N:  Your reviews are so wonderful and I thank you from the bottom of my feedback craving heart!

Prescott tipped his head to one side.  "Don Antonio doesn't have a son."

Her brother's words tore through Anamaria's brain.  Of course, Don Antonio has a son.  She had seen him with her own two eyes.  He had stood in her house and talked with her.  He had told her that he knew what kind of a monster his father was, and that he wished to help her free Jack.  "But, he told me that Jack had been captured and that you were keeping him in the fort so that he'd be safe from Cornado. . ."  Ana brought her hand to her head.  This was not good.

"He was captured," Prescott started, his scrutinizing stare never wavering.  "There were guards at your house.  They caught Sparrow snooping around.  And I am keeping him in the fort, but as far as keeping him safe . . . from the looks of him, Cornado's guards let him have it before they brought him in.  Now, tell me why in the world you think Don Antonio has a son."

"Um," Ana's head swam.  Had Prescott said that Jack was hurt again?  This was all her fault.  Why hadn't she just let Jack stay in the cave?  Then he would be safe, and she would not be standing here trying to figure out if Miguel Cornado was a figment of her imagination.

Miguel had been a real person, of that much she was sure.  Obviously, he had lied to her.  He was clearly not who he claimed to be, but then who was he?  Had he also lied when he gave his promise to help her break Jack from prison?  

"Collins!"  Prescott called to the sentry outside his door.  "Go get Don Antonio.  He just left.  Tell him I need to see him back in my office immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Ana's eyes widened.  This was definitely not good.  She really did not want to be present when the Spaniard returned.  Unconsciously, she brought her hand to her wounded abdomen.  He hated her enough as it was.  She truly had no desire to confront that animal with a story about his nonexistent son.  She had come here intending to spring a pirate from prison, now she was going to be forced to spend the rest of the night convincing her brother that she wasn't crazy and that Don Cornado did have a son.  She was unsure, at the moment, which would be harder to prove.  In either case, she needed to get out of this office.  She had already wasted too much time.  What if Miguel had tired of waiting for her?  If he had even kept his word to be at the hold in the first place, he would certainly be wondering where she was.

Her eyes searched the office for some means of escape.  There was a small room just off of the office.  The tiny room was nearly filled by a cot and a small table.  Other than that, Ana could see nothing but maps and charts and other naval paraphernalia that meant nothing to her.  She sighed and closed her eyes.  The cot sat beneath an open window.  Maybe she should just jump and have done with it.

"What did you need to see me about, Capitán Tarret?"

The accented voice broke into her thoughts.  What on earth was she going to say to this swine?  His cold gray eyes were fixated on her.  She hated this man with all of the fires of hell and now she was going to be drawn into conversation with him.  She felt faint.  Suddenly, Ana's eyes snapped open.  That was it.  Although she had never fainted in her life, she had seen other "proper" women do it all the time.  If a room was too stuffy or a situation too tense, women would be off of their feet in seconds.  She had even heard that women would purposely faint into the arms of a man they admired just to make contact.  Ana had always thought that fainting was hopelessly weak and completely uncalled for, but desperate situations call for desperate actions.

"Don Antonio," her brother was saying, "my sister claims to –"

Before Prescott could finish what he was saying, Ana rolled her eyes and fell against his body.  As she had hoped, Prescott caught her and instantly forgot what he had been saying.  She really hated to make him worry over nothing, and she was having a hard time keeping her face expressionless, but she had to get out of this office if she was going to be any help to Jack.  Prescott carried her into the small room and laid her limp form on the cot.

"Collins," she heard him call again to the sentry, "go find Dr. Roberts."

"Sir, it's late.  His office will be closed."

"Then go to his house!" Prescott snapped.

"I am sure she will be fine, Capitán," she heard Cornado say.  He was probably worried that the doctor would uncover her wound and start asking questions.  

Prescott did not reply to Don Antonio's comment, but Ana was sure that his face said everything that his voice did not.  She was sorry to have missed that.  She heard both men retreat from the tiny room and the door was closed.  

"What is going on?" she heard the Spaniard ask.

"I have absolutely no idea," her brother responded, exasperated.  "She said something about meeting your son."

"That is impossible."

"Is it?  Do you have a son?"

"He died years ago."

"I'm sorry, Don Antonio."

"Do not be sorry.  He died shamefully.  If he had lived, I still would have no son."

Ana clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp.  She seriously doubted that a more evil man had ever walked the face of the earth.

"A bit of a harsh judgment."

"I do not think so."  

"What happened?"  Prescott's words were short, to the point, and rather less polite than his normal speech.  Ana could tell that her brother was extending this conversation only to uncover information and he was fighting not to show his distaste for the Spaniard.

"He fought a duel.  I taught him to wield a sword myself.  He was very good."

"Not good enough, it would seem."

"Not so, Capitán.  He won the duel.  He had his blade at his opponent's throat, but he was not man enough to kill him.  His opponent shot him."

"I do not know how you duel in Spain, sir, but an Englishman does not have to kill his opponent to avenge his honor."

Ana smiled.  She could hear Prescott's disgust, it mirrored her own.

"My son was weak.  If he had not fallen that day, he would have sooner or later."

Ana shuddered.  There was absolutely no feeling in the Spaniard's voice.  He did not sound at all saddened by the loss of his son.  Ana shook her head.  She could not bear to listen to this creature any longer.  She rose from the cot to look out the window.  The night sky had clouded over and the light from the moon was almost completely blocked.  She doubted that anyone in the fort could see her.  She peered down the side of the building to see the roof of another structure less than five or six feet below.  Squinting she could just make out the outline of the building.  There were extra guards standing by the door at the front and an unguarded door at the back.  She was standing right above the hold!

Ana backed away from the window.  If Miguel had kept his promise that back door would be unlocked.  She could slip in and out again without anyone noticing.  If Miguel had kept his promise.

"Excuse me, Don Antonio.  I need to check on my sister."

Ana flew back to the cot and closed her eyes just as the door opened. 

"Of course, Capitán.  Goodnight."

"Annie?"

She opened her eyes slowly, pretending to be disoriented.  "Prescott?  What happened."

"You fainted."

"Oh."  Ana rubbed her eyes as though she were trying to wake herself up.

"How are you feeling?  I've sent for the doctor."

"I'm fine.  Tired, maybe, but I don't need a doctor."

"I've sent for him anyway."

"Prescott, I just need some rest.  You of all people should know what these past few days have been like."  
            He nodded, but did not seem to want to call off the physician.  
            "What if I promise to see Dr. Roberts in the morning?"

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"Fine, then.  Get some sleep."

Prescott left, once again closing the door behind him.  Ana sat up and put her head in her hands.  She had bought herself some time with Prescott, but she still had no idea what she was going to do.  If Miguel had kept his word and unlocked the back door to the hold, then she could get in to see Jack, but she still would not be able to open his cell.

"Captain Tarret, sir?"

"Yes, Collins."

"Captain Norrington asks that you meet him aboard the _Interceptor._"

"Yes, send word that I'll be there presently."

James!  He was with Miguel at the docks.  James would corroborate her story.  He would tell Prescott that Miguel was a real living breathing person.  Of course, if Prescott discovered this information, he would come straight back to Ana to get her full account of what happened.  She heard Prescott get up and leave the office.  Time was running out.  

If she was going to break Jack out of the hold, she had to act fast.  Once again, she looked out the window.  If she and Sparrow were gone when Prescott returned, there would be no denying what had happened.  Prescott would not be able to cover for her.  The sentry, Collins, had seen her enter the office.  When he did not see her leave, he would report that she must have gone out through the window.  Her guilt in the matter would be undeniable.  She took a long deep breath, but that guilt would be nothing compared to the guilt she would have to live with everyday if she let Sparrow go back to Don Cornado.  The images of his beaten body and the memory of the pain in his eyes would haunt her for the rest of her days.  That was a fate far worse.

Taking another deep breath, Ana sat on the window ledge and swung her legs out the window.  "Well," she whispered, "Chris, you always said that my heart wouldn't lead me astray.  So . . ."

Ana closed her eyes, pushed herself off of the window, and landed below, with minimal noise, on the stone roof of the hold.  She crept to the back of the building.  She lay on her stomach, taking pains not to further aggravate her wound, and slithered feet first off of the side of the hold.  Once on the ground, she was hidden by the shadow of the building.  As she neared the door, Ana's heart nearly leapt for joy when she saw that the bar had been removed.  Had Miguel come through for her?  She pushed on the wooden door and felt it give way.  Unlocked!  

Slow as she could manage, Ana opened the door and entered the hold.  The dingy building was lit by a single torch in the center of the room.  Only one cell was occupied and Ana's hope was smashed into tiny pieces when she saw the condition of that occupant.

"Jack?" 

Well, that's where I'm stopping for now.  Sorry to leave you here, but by now you must know how much I like a little cliffy!  Please, don't forget to review on your way out!


	17. The Easy Part

Disclaimer:  POTC, sadly, still not mine.

A/N:  I cannot possibly thank my reviewers enough for all of your kind words.  I'll say thank you, anyway, no matter how insufficient.  Okay, onto the next chapter.

"Jack?"  Anamaria was surprised by how small her own voice sounded.

The pirate was lying, his knees pulled tight to his chin, in the cell against the stone wall of the hold.  In the dim light, Ana could make out a gash on the left side of his head, wet with Sparrow's blood.  As though the man did not already have enough injuries, that twisted Spaniard had to inflict more pain on Jack.  He had not moved since Ana entered the hold.  Her eyes searched the dingy room for some way to open his cell.  Unfortunately all she saw, was the lit torch, and another unlit torch sitting on a stool against the wall opposite the cells. 

Ana exhaled.  What was she thinking, that she was going to burst into the hold and find the cell door unlocked and Sparrow ready to go?  She shook her head, sadly.  Kneeling by Jack's cell, she was about to try to wake him, when she heard keys rattling outside of the main entrance.  Someone was coming.

"Damn," she whispered, watching as the door opened slowly.  She flew to the opposite side of the room, hoping that the shadows would hide her from whoever was visiting the pirate.

A marine entered first, closely followed by Don Antonio.  What was he doing here?  Surely Prescott would not allow this.  Ana closed her eyes.  Prescott was no longer here.  He had gone to see James on his ship.  Most likely, Don Antonio saw her brother leave and jumped at the opportunity to antagonize the pirate in his absence.  The marine opened the door to Jack's cell and stepped aside to allow the Spaniard access.  Ana saw Jack's dark eyes open and he sat up with his back against the wall.  He rested his arm on one knee and his other leg was stretched out in front of him.  If it were not for the blood staining his cheek, Ana would not know that anything was wrong with the pirate.  But she had seen him only seconds before.  Something was wrong with him.  She could only imagine the pain he was feeling and the battle he was fighting to appear so relaxed.   

"Leave us," Don Antonio commanded the marine, who nodded and left.  "So good to see you again, Señor Sparrow." 

Cornado stood with his back to Ana, but she could visualize the malicious grin that was probably coloring his face.  For some reason, nothing delighted the man more than seeing Jack Sparrow suffer.

"Buenas noches, Señor, y soy Capitán Sparrow."  Jack's voice was soft as he baited the animal that stood before him, telling Don Cornado in Spanish to call him Captain.  His eyes were tired, but Ana could see the same sparkle that she had seen only a few days ago, when he had teased her about not wasting any time getting him in bed.

Ana watched as Don Antonio pulled open the cell door and stood in the opening.  He was saying something to Sparrow, but she had stopped listening to his words.  The cell door was open, and she was concentrating on the fact that this Spaniard, whom she hated, was all that stood between her and Jack.  If only she could get Cornado out of the way, somehow.  Her eyes traveled once again to the unlit torch.  Cornado was so involved with taunting the pirate.  If she was quiet, he would never know what, or who, hit him.

Ana bit her bottom lip.  She was seriously contemplating adding assaulting an officer to her ever lengthening list of crimes.  Cornado stepped into the cell.  Ana saw red as he gripped Jack's shirt and hauled the injured pirate to his feet.  She heard Jack hiss in pain as Cornado held his brutalized back against the wall. 

She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the torch.  Don Antonio may wear the appropriate uniform, but he was no officer in his heart.  He probably did not even have a heart.  He had no integrity, and he certainly had no honor.  Prescott was an officer.  Her husband had been an officer.  Findley could have been an officer.  Ana rose slowly to her feet.  Cornado could barely be called a man, much less an officer.  He was a monster, and she would be damned before she let that filth touch Jack again. 

"It is my pleasure to inform you that we will sail for Spain tomorrow," Cornado was saying, "and then _Capitán,_ we can continue where we left off."

Ana emerged from the shadows.  Jack's dark eyes met hers only for an instant, but in that second she saw all the pain that she had seen in his face when he had woken from his nightmare in her bed.  He had suffered so much at the hands of Cornado.  Ana lifted the torch.  He was not going to suffer anymore. In one fluid motion Ana swung the torch and clubbed Don Antonio as hard as she could over the head.  The Spaniard let go of the pirate and fell to his knees.  Ana saw her fury reflected in Sparrow's surprised eyes.  She saw Jack in the prison yard hanging from the shackles on his wrists.  She saw him shivering in the prison infirmary.  She heard his agonized scream.  She brought the torch down sharply against Cornado's back.  His upper body hit the ground.

Ana's eyes widened slightly, taking in what she had just done.  She let out the breath that she did not realize she had been holding.  Sparrow still stood up against the wall, no doubt needing it's support.  He was searching her face as he had done when she offered to clean his wounds and give him refuge in her house.  She still did not know what he was looking for.  

Raising one eyebrow, he took the torch from Ana's shaking hands.  "Looks like I was wrong, luv," he said quietly.

"Wrong?"

"When I said you would make a good pirate."

Ana's mouth dropped open slightly.  She had just knocked a man out cold to save Sparrow's life, and he had the gall to insult her?  "What?" she demanded.

"You've harbored a fugitive, broken into a navy prison, and freed a criminal." 

"Yes?"

"I think you already are a pirate, luv."

Ana dropped her eyes, suddenly ashamed of thinking that Jack was insulting her and somewhat embarrassed by his compliment.  "I'd love to listen to you shower me with praise, Captain, but I really think we should save it for another time and definitely another place."

Jack grimaced as he moved to step over the unconscious Spaniard.  Ana slipped her arm around his back, and he slung his arm around her shoulders, without hesitation.  Ana smiled slightly, happy to see that he apparently was letting himself trust her a little more. 

"So, what's your plan?" Jack whispered from the shadows as Ana pulled the door to the hold closed.

Scanning the dark fort, she let a small sigh of relief escape from her lips.  Apparently, no one had noticed that the rear entrance to the prison had been left unlocked.  That, at least, was good.  Not so good, however, was the fact that she had no plan.  She and an injured pirate were in the middle of a fort, surrounded by men who would see Sparrow hang, and she did not have the foggiest idea how they were going to get out.  Worse, was the fact, that she could see Prescott's horse only a few yards from where they were standing.  He had returned from the _Interceptor._   Not only did she not have a plan, now, she did not have the time to think of one. 

Ana returned her gaze to Prescott's horse.  Beside the magnificent animal, stood a smaller black horse beneath an ornate saddle.  She could almost feel the flash of inspiration take hold of her as a ramshackle plan formed in her head.  Quickly and quietly as she could, Ana re-entered the hold and relieved Don Cornado of his uniform coat and hat.  Back outside, she handed the coat to Jack.  "How are you on a horse?" she asked.

"Well, I'd prefer a bed, but if you want –"

Ana shot the pirate a glare that could be seen in spite of the darkness, and he abruptly stopped speaking.  "I mean, can you ride?"

"Aye."

"Good," she said pulling off the pirate's bandana and replacing it with Don Antonio's hat.  "Now, put on his coat, pull his hat over your eyes, and don't say anything."  Ana turned and headed for the horses.

With a low grunt, Jack pulled himself onto the black horse.  "You know, darling, I've heard of better plans . . ."

"I'm open to suggestions," Ana hissed.

Sparrow opened his mouth to reply, but Ana heard Prescott's voice coming from the office, instead.  "Collins!" her brother was yelling.  "Where is my sister?"

"This one'll do," Jack whispered.

On top of Prescott's horse, Ana guided the stallion to the gate of the fort as naturally as was possible, with Jack close beside her.

"Good evening, Miss Annie," the sentry greeted.  The gate was only lit better than the rest of the fort, but the guard's face was still partly obscured by shadows.  With any luck, Jack's face was similarly hidden.

Ana did her best to keep her body and the horses body between the marine and Sparrow.  Her plan was feeble, but  . . . "Good evening, sir."

"A bit late for you to be out riding, Miss."

"Yes, well, Don Antonio has agreed to see me home."

The sentry nodded, sparing hardly a glance for the Spaniard she claimed to be riding with.  If she had not been praying for this very reaction, she might have been disturbed by his incompetence.  "Goodnight, then."

"That wasn't so hard," she said, as soon as the pair was out of sight of the fort.

She could hear Jack coming up beside her.  She tried not to worry about how labored his breathing sounded.

"Aye, luv, that was the easy part, but I wonder how long it will take that brother of yours to figure out what's happened."

"Not long enough," Ana agreed.

"Aye, and then what?"

Then what?  Well, you'll just have to check back to see what happens next.  I hope that you do, and I hope that you leave me a review to let me know what you think!


	18. Time in a Cabin

Disclaimer: PotC is still not mine. sigh

A/N: I'm so happy that you are all still leaving me such great reviews and that you keep coming back to my little story. Well, I guess, my not so little story!

Chapter 18:

"I hate to be the one to point this out, luv, but your house is going to be one of the first places they look," Jack said as he gingerly removed Cornado's coat and hat. Anamaria watched as he threw the ornate uniform on the ground as though it carried a disease. Maybe it did.

"I know," she said tying the horses to a tree, "so, if we leave the horses here, they will search the grounds first. But, we are not going to be on the grounds."

"No?"

"No."

Ana turned and walked down to the road. Pausing a moment to make sure no one was coming, Ana crossed to a wooded area across the street. She slowly picked her way through the dense trees, with the pirate behind her. Soon, the trees opened up to a dirt path. Jack looked tired and Ana's own wound was beginning to ache. She stopped long enough to lend support to the injured pirate. The pair followed the trail and before long, they were standing in front of a tiny wooden cabin.

Inside, the cottage was almost completely dark. A bed, a table, and three chairs were completely covered with years of dust. Sparrow limped across the room and sat on the small bed. He eyed Ana curiously. "You have a cave on your property and know the whereabouts of hidden cottages in the woods. Have you broken someone out of prison before?"

"But of course, Captain Sparrow," Ana replied as she sat down next to the pirate. "This is what I do in my spare time."

Jack arched his eyebrow. "Got yourself quite a hobby, luv."

Ana shrugged. "The idle rich are hard to entertain," she said.

Sparrow chuckled softly. His laugh was so melodious and carefree, despite the fact that they were hiding from the authorities. He had just spent a year in Don Cornado's prison, maybe anything, no matter how perilous was preferable to those memories.

"How did you know this place was here?"

"Before I we were married, my husband used to take me for walks down on the beach. One night it started to rain. We found this place and were going to wait out the storm. I was sitting at the table over there, when he proposed to me that night."

Gazing across the room, Ana could almost see the gentle glow of the single candle that Chris had found. She could feel his hand on hers and see his wet hair curling around his eyes as he knelt on the floor at her feet.

_"I never knew my life was missing anything until I met you."_ She heard his words and his scratchy voice as though her husband were right there in the room. "_Maria, will you fill the hole in my heart and be my wife?"_

Before that rainy night, Ana had never cried tears of happiness. She had never felt the assurance and peace of loving a man who loved her back. She had never looked in a man's eyes and seen the hope of a new life. She turned to the pirate sitting next to her. He was looking at the same table Ana had been. Physically he was close, but his eyes were someplace very far away. Ana rested her chin on her hands.

Had Jack Sparrow ever been in love? Had he ever dropped to one knee and given himself heart and soul to a woman? What kind of a woman would capture the heart of this valiant pirate captain.

"So," Ana said, hoping to sound casual. "Is there a Mrs. Sparrow?"

He blinked away whatever memories he had been reliving. One corner of his mouth curled up as he shook his head. "I'm sure I would have remembered."

Ana laughed. "Well, have you ever loved a woman?"

The pirate's dark eyes sparkled mischievously. "Many times."

Ana's jaw dropped, and she was glad for the darkness. Hopefully, the night would hide the shocked expression that had no doubt taken hold of her face. Perhaps, this was not the best train of thought to pursue with a pirate.

"What does Cornado have against you?" she asked, changing the subject.

Sparrow shrugged and raised both eyebrows. "Pirate."

Ana scoffed, "I wasn't born yesterday, you know. I've seen what that louse did to you. There's more behind it than general dislike for lawbreakers."

"Maybe."

"Maybe? Well, thanks for clearing everything up for me, Jack."

"What difference does it make?"

Ana could hear the edge in the pirate's voice. He had no intention of telling her what she wanted to know. She pursed her lips. In the past few days, she had opened her home to an escaped convict. She had shot a soldier to protect that convict and, just hours ago, she had broken more laws than she cared to remember to free that same criminal from prison. Yet, he could not answer a simple question.

Why did this pirate get to her. Why did she let him. Ana rubbed her injured side. She was hurt. She was tired. She was frustrated.

Abruptly, Ana got to her feet and turned on the pirate. "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't realize we had to do this according to your rules. Why don't you make a list of subjects that we can talk about and I'll try to keep my questions within those parameters."

Sparrow was facing her. His dark eyes were masked, but his brow was furrowed into a face of perfect confusion. He did not seem to understand why Ana was reacting to him with such anger. Well, she was going to tell him.

"Am I permitted to know your favorite color or how about your birthday? Are those acceptable questions? Can I expect a straight answer to anything that I ask you?"

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but Ana did not give him the chance. An insane Spaniard had tried to kill her because she felt that Jack Sparrow's life was worth something, and she had not been willing to turn the pirate over to be tortured. She had risked her life, her reputation, and the reputation of her family to help a man that the rest of the town would see hang. And he could not answer one damn question.

"How 'bout this one, Jack? Why me? Why pick my house? Why couldn't you have walked a bit further and terrorized Mr. Cander next door? No, forget it. I already know why. You stopped at my house, because you knew you could get what you wanted. And, I'm not talking about the money. You saw a woman standing alone in her garden and you knew exactly how to get her to do what you asked. All you had to do was hide behind your big brown eyes and play the misunderstood rogue. Oh, and don't forget to tell the woman that she could have made a great pirate. Yes, that's the ace up your sleeve, isn't it? Make the woman believe that she could be something other than a pretty face in a pretty dress. Voila! She's hooked. Well, not me, Jack Sparrow. Not anymore."

Ana turned on her heels and stalked out of the tiny cabin. Let him stay there. Let him get caught. What did she care?

She wished that it would rain, like it had the night that Chris had first taken her to that cabin. If it were raining, then she would not have to admit that a pirate had made her cry. If it were raining, she could drown in her anger and self pity.

Concentrating on getting as far away from Jack as possible, Ana did not hear someone step out onto the path in front of her. She plowed right into the unsuspecting soul.

"Oh! Sorry, I wasn't watching-"

"Señora?"

"Miguel?"

That's it for now. Don't forget to review!


	19. Revealed

Disclaimer: I'm still just borrowing the PotC characters.

A/N: Thanks again for the great reviews. I'm so glad you are keeping with my ever growing story.

Chapter 19:

"Miguel?" Anamaria peered into the darkness that hid the Spanish captain's face. "What are you doing here?"

"Searching for you, Señora," he answered.

Ana crossed her arms skeptically. The Spaniard was no longer wearing his uniform coat and his black hair was falling out of his pigtail. He seemed out of breath. Both of the times she had encountered Miguel before, he had been immaculately dressed and not a single lock of hair was out of place. What was he doing in the woods so close to the cabin that Ana and Jack had been hiding in and why was he really there?

"Searching for me?" Ana repeated. "Congratulations, then. You've found me." Her voice was colder than she had intended, but she was still reeling from her last encounter with a certain pirate. Not to mention the fact that, she had no idea who Miguel Cornado really was. According to the man he claimed was his father, she was speaking to a ghost.

"Better that it was I that found you."

Ana arched an eyebrow. "Is it?"

"The alarm has been raised at the fort. They are looking for the pirate and . . . and you, Señora."

"How do I know you won't go and tell the soldiers where I am?"

Even in the darkness, Ana could see the hurt expression flicker across Miguel's face. "Why would I do this?"

"I don't know. Why would you tell me you're Don Antonio's son?"

"I do not understand," Miguel said. "I've told you this, because I am Don Antonio's son."

"Don Antonio has no son."

The Spanish captain's body stiffened and his lips parted slightly. He had been caught off guard by Ana's gruff manner and her accusatory words.

"Why would you say this?"

"Because it's the truth. I heard the words from his own mouth."

"Anamaria."

At the sound of her name, Ana turned around and could just make out the silhouette of Jack Sparrow coming towards them.

"Anamaria," the pirate repeated when he stood right in front of her. "What are you doing out here, luv?"

She turned back to where Miguel had been standing to find him gone. Typical. She sighed and tried to remind herself that she was angry with Jack, despite the happiness she was feeling. He could very well have stayed in the cabin and let her walk alone in the woods all night. With her back turned, she smiled. She was pleased that Jack had followed her, but he did not have to know that just yet. Then, she felt his hand on her shoulder. Her skin ignited beneath the touch of his weathered hand. Her resolve nearly crumbled.

"What do you want?" she asked softly, not turning around so that Jack's hand would not have to leave her shoulder.

"August 11th and red."

Ana turned to face the pirate, unfortunately breaking contact. "What?"

"My birthday and my favorite color."

Ana smiled in spite of herself, remembering her early tyraid. He had found exactly the right words to break through the last of her tenacity. The man was infuriating, but now all she wanted was to return with him to the little cabin.

Back in the cottage, Ana once again sat at the small dusty table. Sparrow sat across from her and crossed his arms on the tabletop.

"Do you trust me, Jack Sparrow?"

The pirate's dark eyes locked on Ana's, but he said nothing. His stare was intense, mesmerizing. If he would just let her see beyond his mask and bravado, Jack could speak volumes with his eyes, but now they were black and unyielding.

"What does Cornado have against you?" she asked quietly.

Sparrow's eyes dropped to the table. He turned his face away and Ana was about to give up on ever hearing him answer her question, when he began to speak.

"Cornado fought a duel years ago." Jack's voice was low and even, but Ana could not help but feel that it was hard for the pirate to open up to her. Tentatively, she extended her hand and placed it on the pirate's tattooed forearm. His eyes snapped up from the table. At first he looked annoyed by her touch, but his face softened when Ana gently squeezed his arm.

"Go on," she said.

"He lost. The man he fought against had his sword pointed at Cornado's throat, but instead of killing Cornado, he showed mercy."

Jack paused briefly. He was gazing out the window, but Ana doubted he was actually looking at anything in the woods. Ana's own face was twisted with confusion and the feeling that she had heard this story before.

"Cornado shot his opponent in the back as he was walking away. He was going to shoot the man again to kill him . . ."

"But you didn't let him."

Sparrow nodded.

She had heard this story before. Ana put her hand to her forehead. Cornado had said that his son died in a duel, a duel that his son had technically won. Cornado claimed that his son had not been "man enough" to kill his opponent. Ana shook her head in an attempt to make sense of what Jack had just told her. Surely, the exact same circumstances could not have happened in two different duels. A lump began to form in her throat. Had Cornado fought a duel with his own son?

"What happened to the man you saved?" Ana asked.

Jack shrugged slightly. "I took him to the doctor."

"Did he live?"

"Don't know, luv."

"Did he have a cut or a scar on his face?"

The pirate's eyes narrowed. "Aye."

Ana closed her eyes as she forced herself to confront the truth. Don Cornado had fought a duel with his son. His son had won that duel, and, when he refused to kill his own father, Cornado shot him in the back. Coward.

"What's wrong, Anamaria? How did you know that?"

Ana swallowed. "The man that fought Cornado was his son." She pictured Miguel. She remembered the hurt expression on his face. He had been honest with her. He had helped her, and she had taken the word of a tyrant over his.

"His son?"

"Yes," Ana ran her hand over her face. She did not really know how to explain any of this to the pirate. She had never mentioned Miguel before. Sparrow hardly seemed to be listening to her anyway as he was once again staring out the window to her right. "His name is Miguel. He helped me get into the hold so you could escape. Maybe he's trying to repay you for saving his life. Maybe –"

Sparrow reached across the table and clamped his hand over Ana's mouth mid sentence. Placing his finger over his lips, he gestured for her to keep quiet. In the silence, Ana could hear what had caused the pirate's action. Someone was coming. Her heart started to pound in her ears. The pirate removed his hand from her mouth and placed it on her arm. The pair stood up and backed away from the opening door.

Ana felt the warmth of the pirate's chest against her back. She could feel his breath on her neck. She hoped he could not hear her heart hammering inside of her body. They were caught. There was no hiding and the cabin had no rear entrance.

The door opened wider. Ana closed her eyes and held her breath.

Wow, sorry to leave you with such a mean cliffy, but I have to keep it interesting don't I? I live for your reviews so don't forget to let me know how I'm doing.


	20. An Officer's Decision

Disclaimer: Just borrowing Jack, Ana and Norrington. I'll give them back, if I must.

A/N: I know I left you all with quite a cliffy last time. I'm hoping a quick update will help you find it in your hearts to forgive me!   
  
Chapter 20:  
  
The door opened wider. Ana closed her eyes and held her breath. She felt Sparrrow's grip on her arm tighten slightly and she would have sworn that he pulled her just a little bit closer, almost protectively.

She heard boots on the wooden floorboards of the cabin. Sparrow let go of her arm and stepped between her and whoever was entering the room. So slowly opened her eyes and peered over the pirates' shoulder into the face of her older brother, standing in the door holding a pair of irons.

"Prescott?" she said, astounded. "How?"

Her brother held up his hand, a gesture made to prevent Ana from saying anything more. His eyes seemed tired and filled with the last emotion that Ana had expected to see. Regret. He looked almost disappointed to find her and Jack, as though he would have rather declared the room empty and left.

Seconds later, he was joined in the doorway by James Norrington. James' eyes were different. He was relieved. His eyes exuded the sense of triumph and accomplishment. "Looks like we've got him," he said simply.

Prescott nodded. "So it would seem."

"Annie," James said. "Has he hurt you?"

Ana saw the pirate's back stiffen. He was insulted by Norrington's accusation, insulted by the prospect of assaulting a woman. Ana smiled inwardly. He was a gentleman beneath his rather uncouth exterior.

"No," Ana answered, not moving from her place behind Jack.

She could not believe that James thought she had been taken from the fort by the pirate. Surely, Prescott had put the pieces together. He must have realized that Ana had faked her fainting spell and somehow freed Sparrow from the hold. Ana eyed her brother suspiciously. He must know that she was as guilty as the pirate of crimes against the crown. Of course, he knew, but apparently he had decided against letting anyone else in on the secret. He was letting his men, his colleagues and his superiors believe that she was completely without blame. This would not bode well for the pirate, but Ana would not be charged with any of the crimes she had committed. She tipped her head to one side, thoughtfully. Prescott was much more willing to bend the rules than he had ever led her to believe.

"Captain Tarret, sir?"

"Yes?"

"Don Antonio and his men have just arrived."

"Very good," Prescott answered, "James will you see to our Spanish _friends_."

Norrington made no move to do as he was asked. "What about Sparrow?"

"This cabin is surrounded by marines. I seriously doubt he will fly away . . . again," her brother said, shooting Ana a glare.

Ana was surprised by the air of superiority Prescott was assuming when dealing with James. The two men were friends. She almost looked on James as her third brother. Prescott was senior to James, as he had held his commission for years before James became captain, but technically he did not have the authority to order Norrington around. Clearly, he wanted James out of the cabin, and James, just as clearly, did not want to leave.

Watching the confrontation and battle of wills between the officers, Ana suspected that James knew what was really going on. He probably did not want to leave because he suspected that Prescott would take some sort of rash action. He had always lived by the rules, much more so than Prescott. In his mind, Sparrow was a criminal to be punished and there was no two ways about it.

"With all due respect, Prescott, if Don Cornado is here to collect his prisoner, then we are obligated to turn Sparrow over to the Spanish authorities."

"Sparrow has committed crimes on British soil," Prescott said staring straight at the pirate. "I am obligated to keep him in British custody."  
"Cornado will not approve."

Now, her brother turned to face James. "I couldn't possibly care less about offending the likes of Cornado."

"Prescott!"

"Listen to me, James. I am only going to say this once," Prescott said through gritted teeth. "Don Antonio is mad as a hatter. He has kept this man in his godforsaken prison for over a year and tortured him within an inch of his life. No man deserves that, pirate or not." Ana listened as her brother repeated the very same words she had said to him in _la Cerradura._ "So, I'm asking you. Go outside and make sure that Cornado stays as far away from this room as possible."

Ana could not see Jack's face at the mention of the brutality he had be subjected to at Don Antonio's command. She wondered if he relieved those painful memories every time Cornado's name was mentioned. She shifted behind the pirate so Norrington could not see her actions and placed her hand on the small of Jack's back, gently so as not to aggravate the wounds she knew were there. He made no indication that he accepted or rejected her gesture, but she hoped that he would take some small degree of comfort in her actions.

"Again, with respect, Prescott, if we are going to take charge of Sparrow, then we will not be holding him in British custody. We will hang him. Won't we?"

Prescott rolled his eyes.

"He's a pirate," James announced as though no one else in the room were aware of that fact. "That is a hanging offense. Now, he has escaped from prison, assaulted Don Cornado, kidnapped your sister, and stolen your horse!"

Norrington was nearly beside himself at the prospect of bringing one of the Caribbean's most legendary outlaws to justice. He seemed outraged by her brother's disinterest. In stark contrast, Prescott looked only saddened when faced with the inevitability of the pirate's demise.

"Thank you, James," he said, his voice playing the part of the slightly bored aristocrat. "I quite understand the severity of his crimes, but we cannot hang him five times. The gallows tend to lose their effectiveness after we do it once."

James pursed his lips and was about to reply, but Prescott went on.

"Now, if you would not mind going out and tending to Don Cornado. Explain the situation to him and make it crystal clear that we have no intention of handing Sparrow over to him."

James pulled himself up to his full height and looked Prescott in the eye. He saluted stiffly. "Aye, aye, Sir," he said, curtly.

"Prescott," Ana started, once Norrington had left the room. "What is going on? How did you find this place?"

He rubbed his eyes. "When Chris wanted to propose to you, he asked me if I knew of anyplace like a cave or a cabin where the two of you could be alone. I told him to come here."

"You could have mentioned that," Ana said.

"My sincerest apologies. There is a cave on your own property and another about three miles east of here. So, if you would kindly hide your pirate friends somewhere else then I will not disturb you."

"Well, you didn't have to bring the entire army straight to this spot."

"No, I suppose I didn't. But then, I didn't have to forget to mention that the only way he could have possibly escaped from the hold was with your help, when I found Don Cornado locked in Sparrow's cell."

For the first time since the pair had been discovered, Jack looked at Ana. A faint smile played about his features. She had not told him that she locked Cornado in the hold.

"I thought he looked appropriate behind bars," she said defiantly.

"For heaven's sake, Annie. You helped a pirate escape from prison and stole my horse. Lord knows what else you've done in the past few days that I haven't found out about. By all counts, you are just as deserving of the rope as he is."

Prescott crossed the room, but Sparrow stepped in front of him, before he got to Ana. Prescott raised his eyebrow.

"Sparrow, will not return to Spain with Don Antonio," Prescott's comment was directed at his sister, but he was staring straight at Jack as he spoke.

"Very commendable, mate. Saved from one death to be handed over to another."

Prescott held up the pair of irons that he had been carrying. "I am sorry, Mr. Sparrow."

"Captain," Jack said, holding out his arms for her brother.

"This is wrong," Ana said as Prescott pulled up the pirate's shirtsleeves.

She heard her brother's breath hitch as he looked at Sparrow's wrists. Deep scars that had been opened and reopened circled his wrists. The man's body was covered with constant reminders of the brutality of _la Cerradura's_ commandant.

The irons fell to the bed. Prescott stepped closer to Sparrow and stared into the pirate's dark eyes. "Hit me," he said.

"What?" Ana asked.

"Hit me. Take my sword and break out the window behind you. If you are the pirate my sister believes you to be, then you will be long gone before the marines know anything is amiss. If you are not, then you will only face the gallows with one more black mark on your record."

Ana felt so many emotions churning up from her heart. She would never be able to find the words to thank her brother for what he was about to do. She wanted to hug him and tell him how she could not have asked for a better big brother. However, before she got the chance to even try, Jack slugged Prescott in the face, taking the officer off of his feet in one punch. He was not leaving room for error. Jack took Prescott's cutlass and pulled Ana towards the window.

"Time to go, luv."  
  
That's all for now. After the last chapter, I thought maybe I'd end this part without an infuriating nail biting cliffhanger! Please Please Please don't forget to review.


	21. Confrontations in a Cave

Disclaimer: Still only borrowing Jack, Ana and Norrington. I'll give them back . . . eventually.

A/N: Thank you so so so much for all of your kind words. It's your reviews that keep me writing! So, keep them coming.

Chapter 21:  
  
Anamaria hobbled into the cave. Her stomach was throbbing and she could tell that Jack's injuries were taking their toll on the pirate. Prescott had mentioned a cave three miles from the cabin, but Ana felt like she had circled Jamaica ten times. Jack had questioned her sanity when she suggested that they head for this particular cave, saying that her brother obviously knew of its location. She had reasoned, however, that Prescott let the cave drop into conversation on purpose. She said that her brother had meant for her to pick up on his hint and to go to this cave. Sparrow had either agreed with her or was too tired to argue. Either way, he was here with her, and they were safe for the moment. The sun was just starting to peek out from the horizon. They could not be seen in the streets in bright daylight. Everyone in town would fall all over themselves to be the on to turn them in. So, it was this cave or back to prison.

"Why did you take me with you?" Ana asked as she sat leaning her back against the cool cave wall.

The pirate sank down next to her. "Why did you come with me?" he countered her question with a question. One that caught her completely unprepared.

Why had she gone with him? When Prescott had told Sparrow to leave the cabin, Ana suspected that her brother had meant for her to stay behind. In the moment, Ana had gone simply because the pirate's hand had been on her arm. She had a hard time admitting that fact to herself to say nothing of how difficult it would be to admit to Jack that his touch could make her briefly take leave of her senses.

"After all the trouble I've gone through for you," Ana started, "maybe I wanted to make sure you didn't go and get yourself caught again." Ana knew she was not being completely honest with Jack. But Jack was a pirate, and as soon as he could come up with a decent plan, he would disappear into the endless waters of the Caribbean. The sea would reclaim him, and she would never see him again. So, why bother letting him know how he was affecting her. It would only make it harder for her to watch him sail away.

"I'll bet my brother didn't realize what he was in for when he told you to hit him," Ana mused.

"Had to make it look good, luv. Just following orders." Jack said resting his arms on his knees and interlacing his fingers.

"Oh, sure. I'll bet you never took orders from anyone your whole life."

Sparrow laughed under his breath.

"Hmm," Ana went on. "He laughs. That means I'm wrong, doesn't it? Well, then, enlighten me."

"What do you want to know?" Jack had removed the ring he was wearing and it seemed to dance back and forth between his ever moving fingers. He was fidgeting. Ana knew from previous experience that he did not like to answer direct questions. He did not seem to like to talk about himself at all. What Ana did not know was why. What had happened to Jack to make him believe he needed to keep himself hidden.

"Alright," she said, finally. "What were you like before you were Captain Jack Sparrow?"

"Shorter."

Ana smiled, sadly. It was almost as though Jack couldn't bring himself to answer her questions. Ana slid closer so that their bodies were almost touching. She desperately wanted to know what had happened to the pirate to make him so distrustful. She also desperately wanted to ignore the tingling in her spine due to her proximity to Jack. For the life of her, Ana could not understand what about this pirate was different from any other man she had ever known. Why did she even care why he could not trust people? What did it matter?

"Why did you pray for me?" Jack's voice broke into her reverie.

Ana turned to face the pirate. He was not looking at her. He was staring straight ahead and had probably been lost in his own thoughts. Almost all of the kohl was gone from his eyes making him appear younger than Ana originally thought he was. Younger, and less jaded.

"I prayed for you because you couldn't pray for yourself," she answered, "and because I was scared."

"Of what?"

"Of what Cornado was doing to you."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why care what he did to me?"

Jack's words cut Ana through to her very soul. All the bravado and the thick pirate accent was missing from his voice, as though it had all been an act. Now, he sounded so sad. That monster had set a his arm on fire, and Jack could not understand why she would have felt compassion for him. What did he expect her to do? Just look the other way.

"I could ask you the same question," Ana said. "When Cornado was yelling at me, you intervened. You had to know that he would be furious. So, why'd you do it?"

For the first time, Jack looked at Ana. The mask he usually wore over his expressive eyes was coming off. He looked almost hurt by her question. "I couldn't watch him hurt a woman," he said as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Ana placed her hand on his arm. She could feel the ugly scar beneath his shirtsleeve. "And I couldn't stand by and watch him hurt you."

The mask fell from Jack's eyes. Ana could see his sadness and his hurt. She could see that he did not understand her kindness. She could see that her simple prayer helped him through prison because no one had ever bothered to pray for him before. And then, somehow, Jack found the mask and recovered his emotions. Pulling his arm free from her hand, he stood up and walked to the mouth of the cave. Ana rose to her feet and followed. She had never seen so much pain inside of one person. She stood beside Jack as he leaned against the stony cave entrance and stared blankly at the rising sun.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said flatly.

"Done what?"

"Prayed for me."

"Why not."

Jack faced her, his expression hardened. "Because only the devil cares for a pirate."

"For most pirates, I'd tend to agree. But you're not most pirates, Jack."

"What makes you so sure, darling?" he snarled.

The dreaded Captain Sparrow had returned to his voice and he was speaking to her as he had the night he stood in her garden and tried to scare her into giving him money. But this time, she saw through his act. He was not the man that the townspeople feared. He was not a cold, unfeeling pirate who's only care was for plundering and pillaging helpless island villages. He was not the slightly insane drunken womanizer. He could be that person, when he wanted to be, but she had seen behind his façade.

"I'm sure because I've seen it. You may try to hide it from everyone, but you can't. You stood up to Cornado when he was going to kill his son. You stood up to him when he was threatening me. Why would a pirate do that, Jack?"

"A pirate will do anything to get what he wants, luv," he sneered letting his eyes trail up and down Ana's body.

Jack was trying to frighten her, and it was working, at first. But, Ana was beginning to see what he was doing. He was the one who was scared. He had let her get too close.

"Stop it," she said with all of the force she could muster. "If you are determined to avoid my question, then I'll answer it for you. I'll tell you why a pirate would do all of those things. You did them because you aren't the evil pirate from the children's stories."

"Am I not?"

"No. Jack Sparrow, as much as you try to hide it, you're a good man."

The pirate's leering smile was starting to fade.

"I know you're a good man, because I wouldn't have wasted my time on a typical pirate. I would've turned you over to that first Spanish soldier that came to my house."

"Why didn't you?"

"Sí, Señora," Ana spun around and saw Don Antonio coming around the side of the cave, his sword drawn. "Why didn't you?"

I know, another annoying cliffhanger. What can I say? I like a bit of suspense. Don't forget to review.


	22. Turning Tables

Disclaimer: Must I keep saying it! I don't own them, Disney does. So sad.

A/N: Thank you kind reviewers! I'm so happy that so many of you are sticking with me and this story. Your feedback is much appreciated, as always.

Chapter 22:

"I know you're a good man, because I wouldn't have wasted my time on a typical pirate." Ana said. "I would've turned you over to that first Spanish soldier that came to my house."

"Why didn't you?" asked Jack.

"Sí, Señora," Ana spun around and saw Don Antonio coming around the side of the cave, his sword drawn. "Why didn't you?"

Her breath caught in her throat and she feared that her heart would never regain its normal rhythm. Don Antonio was an evil man. Jack had a sword in the cave. If he were alone, the pirate would slay the fire breathing dragon and they could walk into the sunset, happily ever after. However, the Spaniard had apparently realized that he would be much safer if he brought along backup.

Prescott stood beside the devil of _la Cerradura_, a nasty bruise starting to form on the right side of his face. But, Prescott had let them escape before. Once again, the pirate could kill Cornado and Ana could persuade Prescott to look the other way as Jack sailed out to sea. At this point, Ana might even be able to convince Prescott to do away with Don Antonio himself. However, the Spaniard must have realized this as well.

James Norrington appeared next, holding matching pairs of manacles. He, inadvertently, was the ace up Don Antonio's sleeve. Now, if Jack killed Cornado, James would gladly apprehend him and march the pirate straight back to the town square to be hung. Of course, there is always the chance that Jack would fight Norrington and end up on the winning side. Unfortunately, Cornado would still prevail. Ana could not possibly convince Prescott to ignore the death of a fellow officer, let alone the death of a friend like James. So, even if Jack happened to defeat Norrington, he would be escorted by Prescott to the gallows.

"Annie, what's going on here?" James interrupted Ana's whirling thoughts. "Do you mean to tell me that you had the chance to turn Sparrow in to the authorities and you didn't?"

In a flash of clarity, Ana was beginning to see why Jack tended to avoid direct questions. She was backed into a corner. James had just accused her of throwing her lot in with a pirate, an enemy of the crown. Her friend, James Norrington, had just accused her of treason. Even if she could step outside of this situation, take James aside, and explain her actions, he would not understand. Jack Sparrow would always be a pirate, and her decision to defend a pirate would always be wrong.

"Is that a question or an accusation?" Ana asked. She could feel her blood heating up. Her entire life she had been judged. Her dark skin had been reason enough for people to form opinions of Ana, without giving her a chance to explain herself. She had been Dr. Tarret's "other" child. She had been the "unfortunate girl" that Christ Laffley married. Now, she was the "stupid girl" who had decided to help a pirate. End of story.

James had served under Chris and was Prescott's friend. It seemed like she had known him all of her life. She always thought he would be different. She thought he would hear what she had to say before jumping to conclusions.

"It's a question, of course," James answered, looking a bit flustered.

"Of course," Ana repeated, mocking James' tone. "It's a question that you've already answered. Haven't you?"

James's eyes widened. He had never been on the receiving end of Anamaria's anger.

"How would you like me to answer you, then? Hmm? Would it be easier for you if I just confessed? Then, you could hang both of us."

"Annie," Prescott spoke up for the first time, apparently trying to soothe his sister.

"No, Prescott. I would like to know what James intends to do here. Is ridding the world of the evil pirate so important that you're willing to take me down just to get a pat on the back from Admiral Fornin?"

"I'm afraid you have over simplified the situation, somewhat," Don Cornado interrupted. He stepped closer to Ana, gesturing with the hand not holding his sword. "Capitán Norrington is bound by law to arrest you for what you have done. It is his duty." Cornado emphasized the word "duty," as he continued to step closer to Ana. "Hanging someone who has committed treason is not his decision. It is the law." He once again emphasized the key phrases "treason" and "law."

"That's close enough, mate," Jack stepped between Cornado and Ana.

"Don Cornado is quite right, Annie," Norrington agreed, seemingly relieved that someone was taking his side and apparently ignoring the glares from Jack and her brother. Discretely, Prescott moved so that he was between Jack and Don Antonio.

"James –" Ana started.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to arrest both of you."

James moved past Don Cornado and handed her brother one of the pairs of irons. Prescott took hold of Jack's arm and Ana thought she heard him whisper something to the pirate. James stood in front of Ana and unlocked the manacles he must have been itching to use.

"Captain Norrington," Prescott said, his tone brusque. "I know you do not intend to shackle my sister.

"She is guilty of treason."

"Is she? Funny, it was always my understanding that one had to be tried and convicted before one was found guilty." Ana saw the fire in her brother's blue eyes.

"She is being charged with treason," James clarified, his voice raising slightly.

"Indeed."

"So, she is to be placed in irons like any other criminal."

"Sort of turns into black and white the situation, don't you think, mate?"

Prescott cleared his throat in an effort to silence Sparrow. "Fancy that, James, the pirate has a point. She has been accused of a crime. That does not make her a criminal." James looked ready to speak up, but Prescott continued. "Secondly, she is a lady. She is to be respected as a lady. You will _not_ put her in irons."

Her brother's words instantly brought Ana's attention to the fact that he had not yet placed Jack in the irons. Her eyes narrowed as they jumped back and forth from Jack's face to Prescott's. Her brother was up to something, and Jack seemed to notice it too.

"Prescott, I resent that. I have always treated your sister with the utmost respect," James was saying.

"Señor, I must object to your giving the lady special privileges merely because she is family."

"Your objection is noted, Don Antonio," Prescott said, his tone condescending. "And James, resent it or resent it not, you will not shackle my sister."

"But –"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, James. She is not a danger to you," Prescott's eyes met Ana's for a split second. He was definitely up to something. "It's not like she's going to pull a gun on you."

A gun? Prescott had just mentioned a gun in exactly the same way he had told her about this cave. He expected her to do something. But what? Prescott did not appear to have a pistol with him. Jack certainly did not. And James . . . James. Ana let her eyes travel down to James' waist. Of course, he would have a gun with him. He was on the trail of pirates. He would want as many weapons as possible. Ana could not believe what her brother was wanting her to do. Did he really expect her to take James' gun?

Ana remembered the feel of the pistol in her hands after she had taken the life of the Spanish soldier. The thought of holding one again sent chills down her back. On top of that, why would James or Don Antonio believe that she knew how to handle a gun? As far as she knew, neither of them realized she had been the one to kill the Spanish guard. But . . . Prescott had still not placed the irons on Jacks wrists. Of course! Jack was a pirate. Cornado and James believed pirates to be the scum of the Earth, completely without moral scruples. He certainly would know how to handle a gun, and he definitely would not be afraid to use it. All she had to do was take the gun from James and hand it off to Jack. She almost smiled when she realized how brilliant her brother was, and how different he was from what she had always believed.

Heart pounding, Ana watched as her hand darted out from her body and jerked the pistol away from James. Before anyone knew what happened the pistol was out of her hands and in the grip of the infamous pirate. With his free hand, Jack grabbed Ana's arm and stepped back, putting more distance between the two sides. He leaned close so that his lips were almost touching her ear, "tables are turning, luv."

Well, not a real cliffy this time, just a kind of tense situation. Please Please don't forget to review! Oh, and does anyone think it's about time that Don Antonio gets what he deserves? If you do, well, stay tuned for the next chapter!


	23. A Duel

Disclaimer: Only Disney has the pleasure of owning PotC.

A/N: As always, I must thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the kind reviews.

Chapter 23:

"Tables are turning, luv," Jack whispered, his breath tickling her ear. Ana blinked away the host of inappropriate thoughts that flooded her brain due to the close contact with the pirate. She was acting like a silly love struck girl in the midst of a life or death situation. Things could very well go completely wrong. She could die thinking dirty thoughts about a pirate.

"You knew this was going to happen," James Norrington's voice broke through the tense silence that had descended. He was glaring at Prescott, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Prescott met James' glare with calm, cold eyes. He was not surprised by Ana's actions. "What are you insinuating?"

"Insinuating?" Norrington repeated the word. "Prescott, you practically told Annie to take my pistol!"

"I did no such thing," Prescott said, "and I caution you James. You're dreadful close to insubordination."

"And I caution you. This is not the _Loyalty_. I am not one of your lieutenants. You may play God on your ship, Prescott, but we are not on your ship and you are not God."

In a few short steps, Prescott had closed the gap and stood glaring down at James. "Bite your tongue if you wish to save it."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes."

"Gentlemen," Cornado interrupted the officers' argument. "Is any of this really nessessary?"

"With all due respect Don Antonio," James said. "If Prescott has helped this pirate escape. He, too, is guilty of treason."

"That may be true, but it is irrelevant. His actions are for nothing."

"What do you mean?"

Ana felt Sparrow's body tense as Cornado walked past James and her brother and stood in front of them. She heard the "click" as Jack cocked the pistol.

"Take another step and it's your last, mate."

The Spaniard halted his advance but did not respond to Sparrow. "I mean, Capitán Norrington, that even if this pirate escapes . . . again." Cornado paused to glare at her brother. "He is still alone on an island of enemies. He cannot hide behind a woman forever."

Ana stared into Don Antonio's hate-filled, gray eyes. He was goading Jack, hoping that his comments would insult the pirate's sense of pride. She suddenly felt very helpless. What would she be able to say to stop Jack from fighting the Spaniard. She had no doubt that Cornado would fight dirty, and she found herself afraid for Jack's safety.

"Your wrong, father."

Cornado spun around and Ana felt herself smiling as she saw Miguel step out from behind the cave. He no longer wore any remnants of the Spanish naval uniform. A simple gray shirt and black trousers coupled with his dark hair falling loosely around his face actually made him look rather like a pirate.

"Father?" Ana heard her brother's voice. "What in bloody hell is going on here? I thought your son was dead."

"I apologize for the confusion, Capitán Tarret. I am Miguel Cornado, and though my father would rather I died, I am still very much alive."

Prescott raised both eyebrows.

"You see, last year my father challenged me to a duel. I won, but I refused to kill him."

Ana watched Prescott's face as he listened to Miguel's explanation. He had stopped looking at the younger Spaniard. His eyes were fixed on Don Antonio as he began to understand that the tyrant had tried to kill his own son. "

He shot me in the back and he would have finished the job if it were not for Jack Sparrow."

"Sparrow!" Norrington apparently could not contain his shock.

"Sí," Miguel nodded. "If he had not intervened, I would be as dead as my father wishes me to be."

All eyes turned to the pirate.

"Señor Sparrow, I owe you my life."

"You owe me nothing."

"I owe you everything. It is a debt I can never repay." Miguel drew his sword and stood facing his father, "but, I shall try."

Cornado moved into position opposite his son. He chuckled softly. "We have been here before, and you could not kill me."

Miguel lunged forward, his blade crashing against Don Antonio's. The older man stumbled backwards. "I did not kill you before, father. Rest assured, this time I will not make the same mistake."

Ana jumped as steel met steel, time and time again. Miguel fought with passion and fury. Don Cornado fought with the cold discipline of a man long accustomed to defending his honor.

Subtly, Prescott had moved closer to Ana and Jack, while Captain Norrington was preoccupied watching the duel. "Captain Sparrow, you should go," he whispered out of one side of his mouth. "No one will notice until this fight is over."

Turning slightly to see Jack, Anamaria found the pirate's eyes already looking down at her. His brow was furrowed, as though he were awaiting her permission. She was suddenly aware that, if she asked him to, Jack might stay. Somehow, Ana knew that the pirate would give up this chance to leave on her request. She could still hear the two Spanish men fighting, but all she could see was Jack's deep brown eyes. She did not want him to go.

"Yes, Jack. Get out of here." Ana heard her words, but it sounded like they were coming from somewhere very far away. Jack had suffered enough trying to protect her. If he would not have tried to help her after Don Cornado stabbed her, he would never have been dragged to the fort. He would not be in this very position, if it were not for her. She blinked away the memories of Sparrow curled in a corner of the hold. She had asked enough of the pirate. Too much.

Jack nodded. "I'll be keepin' this though, mate," he said gesturing to the pistol. Prescott nodded. Jack stuck the gun in his belt and brought his hand to Ana's cheek. "Anamaria," he said, his smile reaching up to his dark eyes. His hand dropped and he walked out of her life.

Ana fought against the moisture gathering in her eyes. She always knew he was going to leave. She was not going to cry for something she always knew would happen. Before Ana could brush away the single tear that had gotten through her defenses, she was forcefully brought back to reality by Miguel's body striking her own. They both tumbled to the ground and she cried out as her wound connected with the jagged stones. Miguel rose to his knees.

"Are you alr –"

Miguel instantly stopped speaking. His breath hitched, and his eyes widened. Ana gaped in horror at the Spaniard's scarred face. Something warm was dripping on her arm. Don Cornado pulled his sword from his son's body and kicked him roughly to the ground. Ana heard someone scream, only later did she realize that the sound came from her lips.

"Miguel?" She tried desperately to cover his wound with her hands, but she could almost feel him slipping away. "Miguel, hang on." Her lower lips was quivering uncontrollably as she watched Miguel struggle to breathe.

"A-Anamaria," he said, grabbing her by the hand that was trying to stop his bleeding.

"No. No. Don't try to talk."

"Tell J-Jack . . . Tell him. I-I'm s-sorry."

No amount of fighting could prevent Ana's tears from falling as Miguel's face went slack and his hand fell from hers. Slowly she rose to her feet. Prescott was at her side without hesitation. His hand was on her shoulder and he kissed the top of her head. She stared at her own hands in disbelief. They were covered with the blood of a good man. "How could you?" she said.

"You forget. It was he who challenged me, Señora." Don Antonio's lips curled into a spiteful grin.

"He was your son!" Ana broke free from her brother's protective grasp.

"He was a disappointment. And he was a fool to think that he could beat me."

"You bastard!" Ana screamed as she backhanded Cornado with all the force that she could muster. The smile was wiped from his face, replaced by the blood of his son.

"That was a mistake," Cornado growled, grabbing Ana's arm. He spun her around so that she stood with her back against his chest, and he raised his sword so that the cold steel was pressed against her neck.

"Cornado, what the hell do you think you're doing!" Prescott yelled.

"Your sister must learn her place."

"Unhand her," Norrington demanded.

"Or you'll what? Arrest me?"

"I'll hang you myself." Ana had never heard so much anger in James' voice.

"I do not think so," Cornado said his eyes fixed on her brother. He shifted the sword putting more pressure on Ana's neck. "I think that your sister will come with me."

"With you?"

"Sí, it is a long voyage to Spain. She will accompany me."

"Like hell I will," Ana spat, the thought of spending any length of time with Don Antonio made her stomach turn.

Cornado drew his sword in further and Ana could feel the blade cutting her neck. "I'm afraid you have no choice."

"What makes you think I'll let you take my sister out of Kingston?"

Ana felt the Spaniard shrug his shoulders. "If you do not, I will kill her."

"Not if you know what's good for ye, mate." James and Prescott turned to face the voice that Ana knew belonged to Jack Sparrow. He stood, pistol drawn, glaring at Cornado.

"Jack!"

"Ah, the gallant pirate returns to rescue his fair maiden."

Sparrow thumbed the hammer.

"Sadly, killing me will not clear your black name, Señor Sparrow."

"No. But it'll make me feel a whole lot better."

The woods suddenly erupted in sound and a puff of gun smoke billowed up from the pistol. Ana felt Cornado's head snap back and his body went stiff. The Spaniard's sword clamored to the ground and his limp body crumpled at the lady's feet.

In a second, Prescott had enveloped his little sister in his arms, making sure that she did not have to see the mess that the pirate made of Cornado's face. Ana let go. Burying her face in Prescott's coat, she cried, not tears for Miguel, Jack, Findley, or Christopher. Ana finally cried for herself.

"James," he said quietly. "Go to the fort, tell them what's happened, and bring some men back to take care of this."

"What about Sparrow?"

Ana pulled away from her brother. Through eyes blurred by tears, she stared over Prescott's shoulder.

Jack Sparrow was gone.

Well, that's it for now. That was a hard one to write. Believe me I gained no pleasure from killing Miguel, but sometimes you have to go where the story leads. Hey, at least Don Antonio's gone! Don't forget to review on your way out.


	24. Epilogue

Disclaimer: PotC will sadly never be mine.

A/N: Well, this is it! The story's finally complete. Hope you all like the ending, after all it's the most important part!

Epilogue:

"Will that be all, Mum?"

"Yes, thank you, Sarah," Ana said standing on her balcony and idly turning her husband's old leather tri-corner in her hands.

Only a few days ago, a pirate had entered her garden and completely turned her world upside down. Just three nights ago, she had stood in the shadows on this balcony with the pirate, after shooting a Spanish soldier to protect that pirate. They had been watching Don Cornado and praying that no one would discover their hiding place. The pirate had stared at the commandant, a man who had been his torment for over a year, with no expression on his face. Ana had let her heart go out to the pirate in that moment. She had held his hand and hoped against hope that he would find comfort in her small gesture.

In the past few days, Ana had alienated the woman she used to be and found the woman she wanted to be. For those few sweet days, she did not have to worry about proper ladylike behavior or afternoon tea with the other well to do women of Kingston. For those short days, she had lived the life of a pirate. But this morning her foray into a fantasy world had ended.

At dawn the tyrannical commandant had fallen and the pirate had walked out of her life. She had spent the remainder of the day hiring a cook, a butler, and stable hands, and grappling with the realization that she had to return to her real life.

"Miss, if I may?" her maid had come to stand beside her on the balcony.

"Yes, Sarah. What is it?"

"Will Mr. Smith be coming tonight?"

"Mr. Who – Oh right, Mr. Smith. No. I don't think we'll be seeing Mr. Smith anymore."

"Did you have a falling out, Miss?"

"Not exactly."

Sarah sighed. "That's too bad, if you don't mind my saying so."

"I don't mind."

"I haven't seen you so happy since Mr. Laffley passed on."

Ana smiled. Sarah was right. The day that she had been told that Christopher was lost at sea, she had felt like her heart was ripped from her chest. She went through life always hoping that Chris would come back to her, that by some miracle he had been rescued by a passing ship or washed up on some deserted island. She had managed to move on, but she was empty inside. The only way she could feel was angry or sad, so she just stopped feeling.

These past few days had been entirely different. She had stopped dwelling in the sadness of her past. She had not been Chris Laffley's widow. She had been Anamaria Tarret. She had been alive. She had been happy.

But, that was over now.

"Where was Mr. Smith from?" her maid was asking.

"I don't actually know."

"Oh. No way to find him, then?"

"No."

"A shame, Miss. I think he might have been right for you, if it's not too bold to say."

"Oh, it's probably too bold, but I'm not sure I really care anymore."

"You miss him. Don't you?"

Ana stared out at the moonlit sea, wondering if Jack was at the harbor stealing a ship or if he was already gone. "Yes, I suppose I do."

"How 'bout I fix you a toddy, Mum. Little whiskey'll help you relax."

"Thank you. That would be nice," Ana said. "Oh, Sarah?"

"Yes, Mum?"

"Use rum instead."

"Ah, I knew you were a pirate at heart, luv."

Ana jumped, dropped Chris' hat, and barely stifled a cry of surprise at the sudden intrusion. Squinting she peered into the darkness. "Jack?"

"Expecting someone else on your balcony in the middle of the night?"

The pirate stepped out from the shadows and Ana saw the moonlight dancing in his dark eyes. Sparrow was wearing a brand new red shirt, that matched his bandana, brown trousers and knee high brown leather boots, all of which were probably "donated" to him. All traces of the brutal beatings he had endured seemed to be gone and the thick black kohl once again lined his eyes. He was smiling as he swaggered over to her side.

"Actually, Mr. Sparrow, I've sort of made it a habit to expect no one else to be on my balcony in the middle of the night."

"What's the fun in that?"

"How long have you been out here?"

"Long enough to hear that you missed ol' Jack."

"Flattered are you? I don't suppose you miss any of the women that walk through your life," Ana said. She lowered her head, suddenly very self conscious.

Jack stepped closer to her. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Ana raised her face so that she was looking into to the pirate's eyes. He placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her. Ana closed her eyes and let her hand wander up the pirate's back and entangle itself in his long hair. Her heart was hammering so hard that Jack could probably feel it pounding against his own chest. Maybe Ana should of expected this or maybe Jack Sparrow only knew one way to kiss, but she was still surprised when she felt the pirate's tongue in her mouth.

"What was that for?" Ana asked, after the kiss had ended all too soon.

"That was to thank you."

"Thank me? For what? You were the one who saved my life today."

The pirate let his hands fall to Ana's shoulders. He closed his eyes momentarily. When they re-opened, she felt like she could see into the man's soul. "What were the words to that prayer?"

"Courage Captain, do not stumble, though thy path be dark as night. There is a star to guide you. Let the road be dark and dreary and its end far out of sight. Face it bravely, strong or weary. Trust in God, and do the right."

"I would have never made it through prison without those words," Sparrow's voice was soft so that Ana had to strain to hear him. How hard it must be for him to admit that to her. "You saved me, Anamaria."

"Well, I couldn't let the indomitable Captain Sparrow go out that way, now could I?"

Jack smiled. "You're a rare woman, luv."

Ana swallowed. Something had changed in Jack's eyes. "You have to go, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Will I ever see you again, Jack?"

The Cheshire grin reappeared on the pirate's face. "Of course."

"How? It's not safe in Kingston. They'd arrest you in a heartbeat."

"Nonsense. No one would even know I was here" he said swinging one leg over the side of the balcony.

"How do you figure?"

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!"

"Wait," Ana said suddenly. She picked up the leather hat and walked over to the pirate. "I noticed you didn't have one of these," she said placing it on his head. "No captain should be without one."

"Thank you." The pirate stole one last kiss before dropping out of sight.

**The Next Morning**

Ana was just finishing her first decent breakfast in days, when Sarah showed her brother into the dining room.

"Good morning, Prescott."

"Morning, Annie," he said, kissing her cheek, before taking a seat across the table.

"So, how did it go at Admiralty?" Ana asked tentatively. "What did you tell them?"

He shrugged. "I told Admiral Fornin the truth, that Sparrow escaped, Cornado threatened your life, and that I had to kill him."

Ana raised an eyebrow. "James went along with that?"

"He did."

"Why?"

"I simply explained things to him and he saw it my way," Prescott said, mischief gleaming in his blue eyes.

"Ah."

"He put in for a transfer, though."

"Where to?"

"Port Royal, I think. The governor there believes that James walks on water, so I'm sure he'll do well."

Ana laughed. "What did Admiral Fornin say about Jack?"

"Oh, he has men all over the island searching for Captain Sparrow. Won't find him, though. He's long gone."

"How can you be sure?"

"His things are gone from the fort."

"What things?"

"His sword, a pistol and that silly compass."

"That silly compass?"

"Bloody thing doesn't even work," Prescott said shaking his head.

"Still, he could've taken those back anytime. Doesn't mean he's gone."

"That's not all that's missing."

"What else?"

"_The Loyalty._"

A loud laugh escaped Ana's lips before she could do anything to prevent it.

"I'm glad you find it so amusing," her brother said, faking a hurt expression.

"I can't believe he stole your ship!" Ana exclaimed.

"I can."

"You know what else I can't believe? I cannot believe that my brother helped a pirate escape."

Prescott's eyes suddenly were very serious. "I didn't," he said. "I helped a man my little sister cared for."

Ana sighed, and let her eyes drop. "Pres, I can't believe he's gone."

Her brother reached across the table and took hold of Ana's hand. "He'll be back."

The End.

Of course he'll be back! He's Captain Jack Sparrow, Savvy! Well, I'm finally finished with this. It's been quite a bit longer than I originally expected, but where the muses go we must all follow. I have to say so many thank yous to all of you that stuck with me through the whole story and reviewed each and every chapter. The time you guys devoted to my story is amazing and I cannot thank you enough. Also, thank you to everyone who dropped me feedback anywhere along the road. I truly appreciate all of the feedback. Now, fear not. I already have ideas for a sequel to this story, so I hope to start it very soon. Until then, I have a little one shot called "A Blacksmith's Broken Heart," out there and an original story on fictionpress.com, if anyone's interested. So, thank you all once again, and I hope to be hearing from you again.

Ariana/Holliday1081


End file.
